NaBloPoMo: Don’t You Want To Talk About My Hair?

Weeeeell, it’s Sunday, otherwise known as "The Day No One Reads Blogs" so I thought I would talk about my hair. Miss Banshee’s hair through the ages! Woo narcissism!

When I was a Tiny Banshee, this is what my hair did. Do you see the beautiful blond curls? The innocent face? Yeah. We don’t know what happened to this child.


I’m going to dance in a cage someday.

Then we hit the awkward period, otherwise known as "The 80s." Dudes, I have not the words for what my hair did during the 80s, other than thank the little baby Jeebus wearing Pampers in the manger that I never figured out the "bridge and tunnel bangs" because I was doing quite well all on my own to be as uggo as possible.


Check out the high waisted acid-wash, man. I bet I’m wearing a belt, too.

And then? I went to all-girls school, and I just stopped caring, as documented here.


I always had that look of horror when I wore the uniform.

The hair has a life of its own, as referenced here by a pic of me from the mid-nineties, when it was obscenely long and natural. I do not remember what that was like, nor do I care to. All I remember was that it was so long and ratty I could tie it in a knot on the top of my head if I so chose, sometimes held by a pencil. I was very popular in high school.


Someone get this child a hot oil treatment, stat.

Then we get to college, wherein the hair started to get shorter and shorter, with varying degrees of success. Here’s a SMOKING hot pic of what happens when the hair gets to a certain length.


He’s totally laughing at me. As well he should.

(shoutout to Joose, who hung out with me despite the hair.)

Then it ALL got lopped off, and since I was thin as a rail, I could pull this off. Not so much now that I actually eat, and there is some shape to my face that doesn’t conjure the word "skeletal."


Somewhere in Oklahoma, where the wind goes sweeping through…not my hair.

Oh, early 2003. I’ll let this speak for itself. It has a LOT to say.


I really thought this looked good. I have problems.

And then there are the wilderness years. No pictures. Trust me, it’s better that way. Those years ended when in a manic fit, I pulled a Britney and had Stevil shave my head. There are no pictures, nor should there be.


Aw, Britney. This is very accurate as to how I looked, by the way.

So here we are! This haircut, which I have been asked about several times, is actually quite easy to acquire. Get my mangy thatch of hair, hit with blowdryer, apply several ozone-killing quarts of hairspray. That’s it!


Sorry about that global warming thing. My bad.

What’s next in my follicle adventures? You tell me!


NaBloPoMo: Don’t You Want To Talk About My Hair? — 7 Comments

  1. Ya, I had the same 80’s hair except I DID have the tunnel bangs. I also was very popular. I have now given up on all dreams of long, curly hair, and gone straight to soccer mom short. Except I am not a soccer mom (or a mom at all), so I am not sure what that is all about.

  2. I have shredded all bigassmallbangspermedouttohere hair photos from the 80s!!! back in the day when I thought that speedy type substances were great I too was wee thin and I had the same pixie hair as you did although my dishwater blond hair was dyed RED,and now I have a rocking bob type thing but I so miss short hair but alas,the 30 pound I have added on now does not allow it

  3. Apparently the “uber skinny due to mysterious circumstances – Short hair sportage” is a bizarre thing which connects us all. I used to have the really adorable wedge hair cut (ala Victoria Beckham), my hair was bleach blonde (but occasionally was the Redken favorite “Rocket Red”) and I weighed about 95 lbs. It was awesome. Now I have porn-star longish hair that is mostly my natural mouse-shit-brown color with blondy highlights. I am thinking about cutting it all off again cos I REALLY REALLY hate long hair (it’s F-ing useless! Useless I say!), but since I have gained roughly 50 lbs since those shorty days of yore I am afeared to go super short for fear of having “fat-face” and ruining all my hopes and fantasties about not being a chunky-monkey. I live in a delusional place where I am not said chunky monkey, but in this place my kitties speak English, and I can chug Pepsi day and night without gaining an ounce!
    Wow this has gone of for far too long.
    Banshee: at least in the 80’s you didn’t have a mother who thought your beautiful baby blonde hair turning brownish was so bad that she had to use sun-in to make you a blonde again. From the 5th grade until 3 years ago I hadn’t not dyed my hair for long enough to know what my real hair color was any more. Now that I know what that color is, I am dedicated to never seeing it again!

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