Ok, I promised my faithful blogminions a picture of my Very Bad Hair, and far be it from me to disappoint you. I had some trouble deciding between 2nd grade and 7th grade as far as which year was worse for hair. I actually ended up going with 2nd grade by default, since I was apparently aware by the time I was in 7th grade that I should not be immortalizing such an atrocity on film. Therefore, I have no pictures of me from 7th grade.
So here’s my class photo from 2nd grade. Where’s Waldo?
I wasn’t going to give you a freebe, but since there are so many rugrats in the picture, here’s me and my hair, all by our lonesome.
So now do you get why I’m always so happy with good haircuts? It’s because I know what a bad haircut is like, and it’s even worse when you’re no longer in 2nd grade and oblivious anymore. I actually don’t remember anything traumatic about this haircut, except discovering this picture years later and going, “Oh my GOD!”
So there you have it, as promised. Tomorrow maybe I’ll show you a picture of the BMW in the parking lot at work with a phallus sketched in the dusty windshield. Ah, humor in its highest form.
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Halfy79
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Joanna