Funny Looking Boys.

My online friend, Amy from Texas, had the most hysterically funny blog contest this week that I have ever seen.

In honor of her birthday, she decided to hold a “Big 80’s Hair” contest on her blog and the winner of the contest would get a Starbucks gift card.

I had a somewhat difficult time with this contest because my hair in the 80’s was short. But, in the back of my mind I just knew that there was one family photo in which I had teased and curled and poofed my hair as large as it could possibly go. And I knew that if I could find that photo, I would be a shoe-in for the contest. I mean, if you are going to humiliate yourself on the internet, you might as well go all out with it. Right?

That darn photo is nowhere to be found. Which means that I probably burned it the last time I saw it and wondered why in the name of all that is good on this earth did I do that to my hair?

I did find this photo though…which is horrible enough in it’s own right:

Look at the lovely fake-blue background. And the shining star thingies going off behind me. And the shell-shocked look of fright on my face. And the completely staged, terribly uncomfortable-to-look-at hand placement. And the short hair that is sticking up at least four inches off the top of my head. And the lace. And (you can’t see it) but there is a huge bow at the bottom of my dress and it has fake rhinestones in it. Oh, oh, oh…and the fake palm tree/frondy thing behind me…because when you are leaning on a fake black box you really also need a fake palm tree to go with it you know!

I look like a mushroom that exploded…if that is even possible.

And I took a picture of this picture and then sent it to my friend so that it would forever be in internet-land. Until the end of time. I must have lost my mind.

Here’s the absolute best part though. I laid the picture down so that I could take a picture of it (because I still don’t know how to use a scanner) and Weston came over to see what was going on. After a few seconds he said “that sure is a funny looking boy!”

I started laughing hysterically. Out of the mouths of babes.

Then, even better, he continued in complete astonishment…”that funny looking boy is wearing a dress!”

I was screaming in laughter by that point. See? There was a reason I poofed and teased and curled my hair so bad back then. It was so I could amuse my children fifteen years later.

Later, after Amy had posted all the Big Hair pictures on her blog, I was checking them all out when I scrolled past my picture again. Weston was peeking over my shoulder and chimed in again with these words of wisdom….”my sure hates those pictures of that ugly boy!”

Okay…enough’s enough. I’m starting to get a complex Mr. Big-Mouth.