The middle sprout took umbrage at the family photo used in my Mother’s Day post last week. Seems the sprout has issues with the fashion sensibilities of the 1980’s. Roll your mouse over the pixel face to see crimper carnage. Be warned: this photo may cause migraines, loss of consciousness, and anal leakage.
OK, I’ll take responsibility for the hair…but the smile? That’s all on her. What psychotropic drug was I enjoying in the 1980’s that deluded me into thinking brittle, over-permed hair was beautiful? Worse still, I inflicted the sizzling-hot, belgian-waffle iron crimper on my middle sprout’s dark, luxurious, virgin mane…why, it seems criminal in hindsight! Being a fastidious mother (with an extra pinch of crr-ayy-zee), I probably drizzled warm maple syrup and melted butter on her head, as well. Sorry middle sprout, I mistakenly thought we were on the razor’s edge of 80’s coolness.
Clothes were butt-ugly in the 80’s.
Oh, and more hair tragedy.
Over-permed, close-cropped and KFC extra-crispy. You could bowl a 300 with that head of hair! Aren’t you inclined to run your fingers through it? It’s OK….I’ve got the band-aids handy. The sprouts grew up quizzically looking at family photos and inquiring, ‘Who is the young man always with us on our vacations??’ ‘Put a sock in it, sprouts. Errr….don’t you recognize your lovely and stylish mother!?’ In those days, I was Jack’s sidekick…the beanstalk….but alas, no longer. Just another of the myriad ways I scarred the sprouts.
I’ll end with this one.
Yup, it’s the same crimped-hair sprout. It proves I did at one time know how to dress her age-appropriately. And her hair is blessedly normal…see? Photo-journalistic proof of the middle sprout’s adorableness quotient. As I recall, that quotient was off the charts……crimper or not…..