"Dude!" people wail. "There is NO WAY anyone would take such glee at putting stuff on their head! Clearly this is a symptom of The Crazy, and isn’t it sad that an innocent child grew up to be such a nutter."
False, my friends. FALSE. In fact, my mom assured me that I’ve been stuffing things on my head since I was able to REACH my head. Oh, you need proof? I’d be delighted.
And now? Pictoral evidence of my lifelong dedication to wedging things on my head and mugging for the camera. All pics were taken between 1978 and 1980, which means I was a wee babe, and clearly should have been put somewhere safe for myself and everyone else. Luckily, I escaped the threat of Baby Asylum, and grew into the stable and delightful person you know now. A stable and delightful person who just a month ago biffed herself in the nose with a book whilst trying to balance it on my head and take a picture at the same time.
I have a Masters Degree, people.
That’s supposed to be a bunting for a doll. I spent entirely too much time with this on my head. Oh, and check out the 1970’s wallpaper. That is FIERCE, mom and dad.
Cookie Monster. Wedged on my tiny noggin. I suspect my Dad is to blame for this one. Not that I complained, mind you!
The world’s tiniest landscaper.
If this picture doesn’t encompass the 1970s, I do not know what does. I think that’s a full-sized plastic bib, by the way. And I am loving the jeans! A fashion plate from the beginning, that’s me.
Speaking of fashion plates! This might be my favorite picture EVER. I’m sure I picked the outfit all on my own, too. Toddler couture!
A hat and cake. I can’t think of a more perfect situation. Damn, I want cake right now.
So there you have it, people! The "objects on my head" thing is NOTHING NEW. But stylie. ALWAYS STYLIE.
I can’t tell you how much I wish I had a bucket.