What you are about to see is a photo of my mother and I on my first day of school, aged 5.
A really quite embarrassing photo.
We lived in Sydney at the time and within a few months we would be moving to London.
My mother had the bright idea that having my hair cut in the most hideous, nerdy bowl cut possible, would somehow make me more scholarly.
How wrong she was.
It just made me look like a dag.
(Just for the record, she is completely unrepentant to this day…)
Note my facial expression of abject terror. I seriously look like I’m about to cry and I haven’t even left the house yet. Well, wouldn’t you if you had a haircut like that? Actually, I really don’t remember my first day being all that traumatic. I was a little trooper as a kid. I swear. Not the sook you see before you. No sirree.
Well, ok. I might have cried. A bit.
I miss that case. How I loved my Globite schoolcase. It made me feel super and terribly important.
It’s funny, you know. I have a lot of photos of me as a kid and in most of them I look as cute as a button – while in others I look like I got hit with the ugly stick.
I know what that is…
It’s all about the hair!
Allow me to illustrate.
Here’s another photo of me taken a couple of months down the track. Kudos to my mother for giving up on the hairstyle:
See?
The glasses are cute. Sh’up.
You can kinda tell by the pose that every time I wore that jumpsuit (I had a brown one too – nice) , I used to strut around thinking I was hot stuff.
And with my new and improved hairstyle, I was a confident, outgoing-bordering-on-precocious, little Miss.
Here are a couple more examples…
Bad hair = ugly, bad tempered child:
Good hair = happy little cutie:
You see where I’m coming from?
I suspect there might be something vaguely profound in that (or completely superficial, for that matter), but I’m buggered if I know what it is…
If you come up with anything, let me know…
Song Of The Day – Pavement – Cut Your Hair
