That's me, on the right. And my little sister, on the left. She has threatened to kill me in the past for posting this photo. I am taking my life into my own hands by sharing this with you, my nonexistent readers.This was Easter Sunday, 1986. I remember how I wanted that dress, had to have that dress, thought I was going to die if I didn't have that dress (actually skirt and shirt.) I don't know if I thought I would look a little like Laura Ingalls Wilder. Maybe the mauve plaid was just too tempting. The cute little round collar? And beads to match. I was hot.
But really, am I ignoring the elephant in the room? Holy balls of fire, look at that hair. You see, my sister and I were not allowed to cut our hair. "Little girls have long hair," stated my father. My mother went along with it, but made sure he had to brush the bird's nest snarls we'd get every once in a while. Somewhere along the way, we convinced Dad to let us have bangs. And then those bangs steadily marched backwards until the entire crown of our heads were "bangs." And then mom got tired of curling said bangs (have I mentioned that my sister and I have stick-straight hair?) so we got ourselves some Ogilvie Home Perms. Sweet, huh?
The end result was this. Mega Mullets.
And if my sister ever sees this, I will pay. Love you, Court!
