Robin at PENSIEVE is this week's hostess, and her assignment was to: "Pull out your old photo albums and find your WORST BAD HAIR DAY." Wow...that's a tough one! There were two I was torn between, so you get the privilege of seeing them both. Along with BONUS material: flagrantly bucked-teeth.
Here I am early on in life, when it was extremely easy to tell that I was adopted. (Either that, or my mother was the talk of the neighborhood, for having an "off-color" child.) My mother is bathing me, and my hair is in its most unmanageable stage - curly, kinky, in an afro. I can only imagine how my mother tried to tame the mane until it grew long enough to put in pigtails. However, I was really hip with this '70s look.
I think my mother was so worried about returning to this stage that she never again cut my hair. It grew exceedingly long, as you can tell from this photo:
This was taken while I was in the fourth grade, only a few months before my hair was chopped off to shoulder-length, a story I've shared previously. My mom used to unbraid my hair every night for washing, and then we would rebraid it in the morning before See those yarn ribbons? They were a staple at the top of the looped braid.
I almost didn't post this photo, due to the HORRIBLY offensive teeth. I had four permanent ones yanked so that the orthodontist could fit the rest of them into my mouth. My palate had also become misshapen due to years of thumb-sucking, probably related to my early abandonment. Thank goodness for $3,000 worth of braces that allows me to smile without scaring folks too terribly.
There you have it! Now I have to go check out all the rest of the hair disasters. (Oh, and in case you're wondering, one reason I don't have anything worse to display is because 1) I've NEVER had a perm - for obvious reasons, and 2) I've never had my hair colored - EVER.)