Found this photo of me when I was, like, 14 and my best friend, Vanessa (she took this picture), and I had bleached my hair because I decided I was tired of the color (I had peroxided the front and sides to have that two-toned look -- it didn't look so good with the perm).
She was, of course, an expert in hair color because she had a multi-colored mohawk. She said we had to bleach it first so that it would take to the dye of the dark brown color that we were going to try to put it back to. We picked a dark ash brown -- wrong choice. It faded within weeks to a nifty dark-green-hued brown. Think... well, you know what's dark-green-hued and brown. It was years before I screwed with my hair color again.
I love Vanessa; she's my soul sister and we are still, truly, like 150 years later (well, it feels that way, anyway), still BFFs.
But look at this picture. Just look how damn cool I was at 14. Smokin', all casual like, bleached hair, black stretch-lace tank top and Ray Bans. When I originally scanned this picture years ago, I cut off the rest of the image. What you don't see are my shit beat up sneakers (Vanessa and I named those shoes: the scummies -- we shared them) with no socks (duh), and worn pegged 501s (done by hand). 1987. And I can guarantee you we were listening to the Violent Femmes, and possibly even taking one, one, one 'cause you left me...
She was, of course, an expert in hair color because she had a multi-colored mohawk. She said we had to bleach it first so that it would take to the dye of the dark brown color that we were going to try to put it back to. We picked a dark ash brown -- wrong choice. It faded within weeks to a nifty dark-green-hued brown. Think... well, you know what's dark-green-hued and brown. It was years before I screwed with my hair color again.
I love Vanessa; she's my soul sister and we are still, truly, like 150 years later (well, it feels that way, anyway), still BFFs.
But look at this picture. Just look how damn cool I was at 14. Smokin', all casual like, bleached hair, black stretch-lace tank top and Ray Bans. When I originally scanned this picture years ago, I cut off the rest of the image. What you don't see are my shit beat up sneakers (Vanessa and I named those shoes: the scummies -- we shared them) with no socks (duh), and worn pegged 501s (done by hand). 1987. And I can guarantee you we were listening to the Violent Femmes, and possibly even taking one, one, one 'cause you left me...
Well, anyway, the picture is so utterly, horribly embarrassing that I just had to put it out there for the whole freakin' world. That girl is still a part of me, though. She's all meshed in there with my nerdy self. See? I can do the Olivia Newton John Grease ending change-up, too... just maybe in reverse.
Man, I just wish I knew everything now like I knew then and was even half as cool...
I challenge other bloggers out there to post their embarrassing teen photos. I can't possibly be alone, here...
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