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.
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.









