Yesterday was my birthday.

I turned thirty something again.

I don't really have a problem with getting older.

I have a problem with my age getting older.

I wouldn't mind being 40, if forty were spelled "twenty-five".

So to numb the pain of aging, I'm going to make public some glorious photos of my youth.

{Warning: staring too long at some of these hairstyles may cause blindness.}

My first birthday. No hair to mess up.

Kindergarten - No brush to fix messy hair.

First Grade - Shortly after my sister practiced her scissor skills on my bangs.

Third Grade. If you need an explanation of this hair, see here.

Fourth Grade - I really loved this outfit, especially the earrings.

Fifth Grade - In my defense, pictures were after lunch and both recesses. What kind of genius schedule is that?

Sixth Grade - I actually look presentable. Who knew?

Seventh Grade - All I can say is that I'm sorry you had to see that. In my defense, I was really smart, just not in the fashion sense.

Eighth Grade - Ahhhh, my first perm. Yes!

Ninth Grade - Gotta love the bangs and the shirt buttoned to the top.

10th Grade - Looking at that hair is painful to me.

11th Grade - We have a winner! I guess 16 was a good age for me.

12th Grade - Here we have the obligatory Senior Glamor Shots.
Fan-Freakin'-Tastic!

My first year of college brought out my alter ego we named Beth. She also was hair challenged.

After awhile, I just gave up and hid my hair under a blanket.

This has nothing to do with hair. But by my second year of college, I learned that hair doesn't matter - having your picture taken in strange spots on BYU campus does.

I also discovered that embracing your inner nerd is a great way to excuse bad hair.

Just so you don't think I'm hopeless, here is one where my hair is at least presentable.

I may be old, but at least my hair ages well.