Bob and Braces

Have you ever felt embarrassed by the things that you used to like?

Yes, it would be impossible to say I haven’t had my fair share of embarrassments and regrets in my life. For example, back in the day, I had a penchant for ripping off my clothes and running around in my birthday suit. Sometimes, I’d dig out a big, fluffy tutu and wear that around my waist but refuse to put on anything else. No shirt, no pants, and no underwear. Of course, I was only four or five so my behavior makes a little more sense, but it’s only natural to feel a little embarrassed by my war against society’s restrictions. Yet, I feel a certain pride in my old wild spirit. She didn’t care and did what she wanted with no regrets. But, that could last for only so long. In a couple years time, I would make one of the worst decisions of my life.

It was 2010. My family had just moved from hot and humid Southeast Georgia to flat and dry central Illinois. On top of that, my once bright, fine hair was beginning to darken to a dirty blonde. Least to say, I was not happy. While I was able to handle the transition well enough, the fact that I was losing my natural hair color was astonishing. There was a now a distinct line across my head; it was a fight between the light and the dark. To understand my next move, you must understand that at the time, I hated hairstyles that blended multiple colors. There was something about dipping your hair in dye and being stuck with a new color that simultaneously terrified and angered me. Despite its usefulness in this situation, dye was just not an option. As a result, this ongoing battle between my bright blonde and dirty blonde hair was hard for me to deal with. I had to figure out a way to fix it without coloring my hair. Then, I came to a terrible decision. I was going to chop it off.

At the time, bobs were the fashion of sixth grade society. A bob, in case you don’t know, is a hairstyle that is really short in the back and gets longer as you near the face. And, I knew I wanted one. Once I got to the salon and told everyone my idea, they tried to talk me out of it, but I refused to listen to reason. No, even better, I decided to get a bob that would not only chop off my blonde but ride just along my jaw for extra style. However, what I was imagining was not what happened in reality. My hair, normally straight and fine, poofed out to the side and rose higher than my jawline so that it was more around mid-cheek. In addition, my head looked ginormous within the confines of this tiny haircut. Yet I had convinced myself that this was the right decision, and that I looked amazing.

For those in disbelief, I present "the haircut"
and my fabulous sister, Gabby.

I strutted out of that salon with a sense of superiority. My new haircut demonstrated my professional skill (since I had the “sharp jawline” look) and built up my confidence in making decisions. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after the haircut that I created the worst combo in the history of middle school -- bob and braces. With my teeth trapped in a metal cage and my hair falling slightly past my ears, seventh grade was especially brutal. While I never made the connection between that awful haircut and its effect on my social life, I realize now that that bob was a terrible mistake. Even today, I very rarely show anyone pictures from that time period. The embarrassment is just too much. If there’s one thing I could say to twelve year old Lauren, it would be to just consider dye and don’t trust yourself with scissors.