I am barely making the Thursday cutoff. Blogging on fumes, as they say in Nerdland: Population 1. So I’ll keep this short and sweet. This is my first grade picture:

That haircut was the source of serious drama. I hated it so bad that I wore a hood all day, every day – including at school – for several weeks. Ask my mom – she’ll vouch. I can still remember the sweatshirt – it was a red hoodie, and that thing must’ve stunk by the time I finally took it off.

In hindsight, it makes me realize that perhaps this hair incident was just preparing me to make wise haircut decisions in the future. Or not. Definitely not.

OR perhaps it was destiny’s way of aligning me with my future husband, who looked like this in his first grade photo:

BAM! Twinsies.

That’s the last of the childhood photos I have in my possession, so I will stop torturing the internet with my bad haircut stories.