Showing posts with label Hairstyles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hairstyles. Show all posts

Monday, 20 August 2018

My Hairstyle History #LifeThisWeek

Brace yourselves for a trip into the worst of 80s and 90s hair. I've shared my hairstyle history before, particularly my infamous mullet-perm. But it's so hilarious it's worth sharing again.

This is one instance when I should definitely let the pictures tell the story. They're very old photos that I scanned and cropped any old how, so apologies in advance.

Long Hair

When I was cute circa 1981 


Infamous mullet-perm. I was about 16
and it was 1987. That's my only excuse.
Shut up. 

At my 21st. Bad perm. Bad earrings.
Bad make-up. But I did have a good
figure in those days. Sigh.

Poodle perm and weird expression.
Perhaps I was busting for the loo?

Short Hair

This was around my 30th birthday circa 2001.
I was up the duff but didn't know.

The lobster and wine look pretty good.
Not sure about the bowl hair cut.


I looked pretty good then.
Is that me? 

Helmet hair. Noice. And my awesome parents.

Bad selfie. The hair was good because
I'd been to the hairdresser.

Long Hair Again 

Ten years ago. I was pregnant
with Mr 9. 

Who cares about my hair LOOK

No Hair

2015/16 when I had tit cancer became
a hare krishna. Fortunately I have
a lovely shaped head. So I'm told.

Chemo Curls

Move over Kath Day-Knight

This was the day I went to a club
buffet for a seniors price. Winning!

Silver Fox

Present day.
I let my hair go grey and I DGAF. 

And that completes the cringe.

Linking up for Life This Week and Open Slather.

Which hairstyles have you had?

Monday, 13 November 2017

My Last Year Of School

In 1988, I finished my last year of high school. Almost 30 years ago. Yikes. I'm OLD.

I have to admit, I don't remember a great deal about it. I certainly wasn't studying like a maniac for the HSC. I had a bit of a laid back, I'll-do-it-tomorrow approach to it all. Coughs. Nothing's changed...

I was most likely too busy doing other important things. Just like every 1988 era 17 year old. You know, like watching The Comedy Company (which apparently premiered in February of that year) and  listening to my Carpenters and Barbra Streisand records... Oh wait...

Okay, I have no idea what regular 17 year olds did. But I suspect they had boyfriends and would sneak out to drink and try to get into night clubs...

But I totally did wild and crazy things too! Like staying up really late and watching the US today show when it came on at midnight or something. I'm such a rebel. Snorts. Oh yeah, there was an embarrassing incident when I sarcastically announced to the class that I was rebel, but I don't remember the finer details. Hmmmmm.

I had absolutely no idea whatsoever what I wanted to do when school ended. To this day, I still don't. I'm sure I'll figure it out one of these days.

Anyway, I don't feel like ruminating about all of that. So, instead let's just laugh at the fashions and hairstyles.

Here I am with my infamous mullet-perm.

I was kind of cute in a dorky way. Sort of. Maybe. Oh, shut up.

As I've already mentioned, I loved The Carpenters and Barbra, but predictably, I also loved Madonna. It was 1988. I was 17. I think it was compulsory.

I was stupidly shy and insecure, but at the school formal I thought I was pretty special in the dress my mum made me (Pictured above). It was ruched and strapless, and then it had this tulle over skirt thing with a gigantic bow. I think bows were a thing in the 80s.

Also, check out the lovely old carpet my parents had.😂

Not to mention to the beautiful doiles on the armchairs. Noice.

The only other thing I remember is that I completely bombed out in the HSC. Sigh. Sad face. 😭 I guess I am one of those reasonably intelligent people who just doesn't do well in structured exams. That's what I tell myself, anyway. Or it could have been that lack of studying thing... Oops. 

Anyway, fast forward 29 years and here I am smashing life and being delusional awesome, so all good. 

To be perfectly honest, I'm glad those school days are over. I was always a Nelly No Friends and therefore desperately lonely. Sigh. 

So I'm quite happy to be old after all. 

What about you? 

What do you remember about your last year of school? 

Saturday, 12 November 2016

10 Things I'll Be Remembered For

Hello again, dear readers! 

You forgot all about me? I'm sure that's not possible! Is it?

Of course not! Even when I'm no longer around, I'm sure I'll be remembered fondly by many of you. While I have no plans or intentions to go anywhere for a very long time, recent events have certainly got me thinking. 

Here's ten things I think I'd be remembered for: 


I'm always polite and nice to people. Even those who would never like me even if I gave them a small yacht and a lifetime supply of chocolate.That's just the way I am. I always think of that meme that goes around. The one about how everyone has some kind of internal struggle you know nothing about. So just be kind. Sometimes people refer to me as being sweet. It used to make me nauseous, but now I think it's a good thing. It's means I'll be remembered for a being a sweetheart. Okay, it is a teensy bit nauseating...


I don't make friends easily, but I'm very sincere and loyal once I do. And online friends count now, right? Otherwise I'm practically Nelly No Friends...


I'm as funny as a fungal toe nail in person. However, give me a device and an internet connection and you'll suddenly discover something about me you never previously noticed. I have a personality! Who knew? 


One day I will shuffle off this Earth for tea and cake in the sky. Hopefully, a very long time from now. But my boys will still be here.  And I expect they'll all be top blokes (I would say that, I'm their mother...). So I'm taking the credit for it, even in the grave. 


While my writing may never reach any grand or literary heights, I hope that I've been able to entertain and amuse SOMEONE out there. You're laughing WITH me, not AT me! Aren't you? 


I've gone from a fetching mullet-perm to an elegant poodle-perm. More recently I've been totally on trend, embracing the clown look. Furthermore, I can effortlessly segue into a foxy lady and channel Kath Day-Knight from Kath n' Kim. Noice. Unyewwwsual. 


Whenever you are trapped in some sort of easy listening hell you will ALWAYS remember me. For instance, you might be trapped in the dentist's chair.  A Carpenters song may echo eerily in the background as your jaw aches. And you will think of me. You know you will! And once again, you're totally welcome! 

Also, when I'm gone it will be your duty to honour me by eating ALL THE CAKE I can't have anymore.  You can't deny that it's a great legacy I will have left you. Use it wisely. 


I'm so quiet, there's a good chance you won't even notice I'm gone. Or maybe, just maybe, my resting bitch face will be curiously missed.  After all, a quiet, pleasant person (with a misleading resting bitch face) is preferable to some one who is nasty, gossipy or racist. 

I was going to add something about my tenacity in the face of adversity. I'm a breast cancer survivor and all that. But really, I'm just one of many people who've done the same. It doesn't make me special.

Well, maybe a little bit. Give me a break! That shit is HARD. 

So that's what I think I'll be remembered for! Let's fade out with a bit of Barbra...

Memorieeeees, like the corners of my miiiind....

Linking up (late, as usual!) for Friday Reflections.

What would you like to be remembered for? 

Images: Pexels, Pinterest

Monday, 9 September 2013

The Buried Hopes Of A Bogan (Or Something)

It's hard to believe that I could have any regrets. I mean, just look at my life. I'm a 42 year old unemployable, overweight bogan living in a fibro box in Boganville. It doesn't get any better than that, right? However the truth is, my life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes now. That's a sentence I once read in a book and I say it over to comfort myself in these times that try the soul. Not really. The first part about the buried hopes, anyway. I've just always wanted to use that line out of Anne Of Green Gables. Ahem.

Anyway, onto my regrets. Deep regretful sigh. SIGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Surprisingly I do have  a few. I think it would probably be a good thing to confess to them and let them go. I'll feel so much better and move forward free from regrets, a huge weight finally lifted from my shoulders. That, or I'll just add this post to the list. Who knows? Only one way to find out. In no particular order I present my list of bogan regrets:

  • I regret decorating the living room of my parents house with a texta pen when I was around three years old. Sorry Mum!
  • I regret kicking that boy in the shins at school when he tried to comfort me because I was peeved about not getting to go home early one day when my brother did. Even though I don't remember exactly who you were. Sorry, dude.
  • I regret reading my Enid Blyton books under the desk at school. (Actually, no I don't. Honestly, what 10 year old book worm could put those books down and concentrate on their long division just when George and Timmy the dog were about to catch those nasty smugglers? None, right? The thing was impossible.)
  • I regret cutting off my long hair when I was 14.
  • I regret then thinking that a mullet perm was a good idea. Or any perm.
  • I regret wasting so much energy thinking I was 'fat' when I was younger.
  • I regret turning down that lucrative modelling contract when I was younger because I thought I was 'fat'.
  • Okay, there was no contract. I just made that last point up to see if you were paying attention. As if you would believe that anyway. Did you? Don't answer that.
  • I regret making that up, okay?! (Not really, I have to get your attention somehow. Ahem.)
  • I regret saving up a sizeable chunk of money when I was young, ostensibly so I could go overseas and then just getting married and putting it into a mortgage and never going, because now that will never happen. An even deeper regretful sigh. SIGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
  • I regret perceiving being such a quiet person as extremely negative trait and not seeing it as a possible strength in having a library career.
  • I regret the consequence of the above perception. This resulted in me 'burning my bridges' in almost every job I had. I ended up leaving because I believed it was only a matter of time before I was fired. I have since learnt that this is common thing that Aspie's do.
  • Sometimes I regret not knowing that I am Aspie sooner than age 40. Unsure if it would have made any difference so I don't spend too much time on this regret.
  • I regret turning down Brad Pitt's proposal because then he went and married that bloody pouty Angelina Jolie biatch.
  • Okay, you caught me making up stuff again. I admit, it was a bit obvious that time. As if anyone would turn me down for Angelina. Unthinkable, right? Pfffffffffffffft.
  • I regret replacing my exercise addiction with a cakie one because now I'm struggling to reverse that.
  • I regret going to Weight Watchers a few years ago and doing so well, losing weight, only to fall off the wagon spectacularly and regain. See above point.
  • I really regret that anxiety has become such a presence in my life and is something I struggle with constantly. Enormous regretful sigh containing all the sorrows of the ages. SIGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Having now confessed to such a long list of regrets I must add that I am (slowly) learning to accept myself and the way things are right now, rather than focusing on 'could have beens' and 'shoulds' and 'what ifs' and all that maudlin stuff that can be quite draining and a waste of energy. After all, I haven't listed any murders, have I? Oh wait. I accidentally murdered my dog. Oops. Long story. I do deeply and profoundly regret that. Sorry Betsy!

Right. That's it. Nothing else. I've never been arrested, been caught naked or done drugs or anything illegal. Damn. I'm actually frightfully boring. Maybe I better go and get arrested just so I can add something interesting to my list. I regret being boring. On second thought, being boring is what I do best. Especially with this blog. You're welcome.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

   What are your regrets? Or do you have more of an Edith Piaf approach to life and have no regrets?

Saturday, 24 March 2012

Bad Hair Life

My hair is alarmingly grey. Presently, I desperately need to dye my hair and have decided on the D.I.Y version to save  a few dollars.  Micky Blue Eyes recently resigned from his job (recently as in six months ago) so this means I need to be thrifty and economical as opposed to the opulent, lavish lifestyle I used to lead.  Damn, there go the trips to Paris and designer clothes. Sighhhh...

Anyhow, I'm not sure why I even bother, over the years my hair has almost had a life of it's own.  First of all, it was interesting enough growing up being a 'Ranga' the scathing affectionate term for a red haired person.  This meant putting up with all the usual jibes like: "Red Head Match!" or "Carrots!" Or, my personal favourite: "Aw ya, red headed rat rooter!", as I was innocently minding my own business.  That, or they would gaze at my hair (when it was very long) with worshipful eyes, sigh and say: "Gee your hair's nice.  Pity it's not blonde."

On the flip side, occasionally some old dear would stop my brother and I to ooh and ah over our hair and announce: "People  pay a fortune to make their hair that colour you know." before slipping us the odd 20 cents.  Which was a fortune back then.  You could buy a whole bag of lollies with it.  Now you wouldn't even get a single black jelly bean.  

I've lost count of all the bad hairstyles I've had over the years.  I've gone from having very long, straight hair, long enough to sit on, as a girl. Then, quite long, with a daggy sort of a fringe (a bit like Agnetha from ABBA). Incidentally, why do Americans call a fringe 'bangs'?

Mullet Perm. I don't know why I'm smiling.

Then, I had the first of many truly hideous perms, including the woeful 'mullet-perm'. See above.  In my defence it was the 80's so I was suffering from a severe case of T.E.S (ie. Tragic Eighties Syndrome).  In my early 20' s I progressed to the spiral or 'poodle' perm when I was frequently mistaken for Nicole Kidman.  Oh okay, never. Not once. I still don't get it.  I mean, the resemblance was uncanny.
Nicole Kidman eat your heart out.

In my mid 20's I sported a preppy bob, and being the height of the X-Files craze I was frequently mistaken for Gillian Anderson.  Oh okay, only once, and the person was being totally sarcastic and me being typically Aspie, I didn't pick up on it.  So it was nice to have that illusion for a while.

At age 30, I sported a short blonde crop and a pregnancy I remained clueless about, but that's another story.   Yes, too many bad hairstyles and bad hair days to mention.

Blonde crop. Also pregnant and clueless. Noice.

The problem is I have absolutely no idea what to request at the hairdressers.  I totally blame this on some of the idiotic books I read as a girl. This time in the form of teen romances.  The heroine was usually a shy, nerdy sort of girl who gets dragged along the hairdressers by her more outgoing sister or bestie.  Once at the salon, the hairdresser takes one look at her and knows in a nano-second the perfect style and cut to transform her from nerd to fox instantly.  Suddenly revealing cheek bones she never knew she had and perfect almond shaped eyes.

Nerd-girl walks out of the salon a new person, gorgeous, confident and naturally she gets the guy. I kept on expecting a similar experience of being transformed from the tragic nerd I was to super chic.
Imagine my consternation when on one occasion, at around age 15, I was transformed into Leo Sayer with a singed scalp instead.

I was far too shy to say anything to the hairdresser who had blessed me with this beautiful look.  Instead, I actually paid them money for the indignation and scurried home, mortified.  My mum took one look and went ballistic, dragging me back and demanding they fix it.  They must have permanently damaged some brain cells with the perming solution however, as, years later I happily sported a do that wasn't entirely dissimilar.  I don't know what I was thinking.
To achieve this look simply channel Leo Sayer. Or not.

Some years after I had left a job, I met up with a former work colleague. By then, I had cut my hair short. Surprised, she commented "What happened to your curls?" I then told her that I  used to perm it. She clearly couldn't believe that I had actually paid money to have my hair look like that, replying "Oh, I thought it was natural." Nope. I did actually pay for bad hair. So, why pay for it, when I can acheive the same thing at home, with a cheap and nasty DIY dye job. I think I'll give the home perms a miss though. I am off to cling wrap my hair. Classy.

I STILL have bad hair, without the perms. Sigh.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

I'm also linking up with Cathy from The Camera Chronicles for Flashback Friday, after deciding I haven't embarrassed myself quite enough.

Do you have a 'Bad Hair Life'? Or do you love your locks?