Bang Bang!

Some of you knew me in high school. Some of you did not. Some of you went to high school with me and didn't know me then but know me now. Some of you knew me when I was in high school but didn't actually Go to high school with me. Regardless, while looking through the old year books today while chatting to a high school friend who wasn't my friend in high school on instant messenger (nerds) I discovered something I'd like to share.

The journey of the bang.

FRESHMAN YEAR: Age 14, Bang Condition = Serious

OK, first...notice the overalls. Always in overalls. Second, hardcore braces, awesome. Here is the deal, at 14 I was still allowed to sport the bangs. I was still a kid in many ways. Plus I had just moved back to Wisconsin from OHIO where girls were still curling and spraying their bangs...so all things considered I was ok. This was before I really started smoking, before I had the fashion flare that I have today (spit take). I was SO young. And see how they are divided a little in the center, it's like I know they are wrong and I'm trying to get them off my forehead. You think that after a year I will learn. But look what happens instead.

SOPHOMORE YEAR: Age 15, Bang Condition = Terrifying

Wow. That is a lot of bangs. That is a lot of hair. My hair was almost to my stomach. And so dark and straight. Not in a good way. And, always one to give such effort to my looks, I think my hair is WET in this picture too. You know who I sort of look like here?...OH MY GOD...I sort of look like the girl from The Ring! Maybe that's why I'm so scared of that movie, it brings back a bad bang time in my life. Still got the braces here. Hott.

JUNIOR YEAR: Age 16, Bang Condition = Improved

That's not my handwriting. A guy named Chris Crane who is probably now either a very famous artist or dead wrote that...but I can't remember why. It says "I love everyone". Hmm. Perhaps true of the 16 year old Brooke, ten years later when cynicism and martinis set in it's not quite the same story is it chica? I'm smiling sincerely in this picture because Junior year was my favorite year. All my friends were seniors and we had a lot of fun and laughed a lot. The bangs have been divided again, and seem to be growing out. And the hair has been cut to a manageable length and seems to have some streaks in it. This must be when I started going to Art and Science Hair Salon. I'm weaing a boys ringer-t from JCrew cause it was the nineties and that was hot. There was likely a flannell around my waist and combat boots there as well. Remember when it was trendy to dress like a lesbian gym teacher? So ugly. But so comfy. Thanks a lot Nirvana.

SENIOR YEAR: Age 17, Bang Condition = Recovered

Off to enter the world as a young lady with shaped hair and NO bangs! While all the other seniors were having portraits of themseves taken with their cellos and footballs and pom poms and things, I was D.O.N.E. this was the only senior picture I had taken, because we had to for the yearbook. At this point, I had about three friends I actually cared about still in school with me, my parents were packing up to move to Vegas, I knew I was headed to glamorous St. Louis Missouri to go to writing school and so as far as High School went I couldn't care less. This picture was taken one morning about 15 minutes after I remembered I had to get my stupid picture taken. There is no make-up on my face. I did however remember to curl the ends of my hair under like all the cool girls did at the time. Everyone had senior quotes like, "Follow your heart and put wings on your soul" or whatever, mine was an entire poem by Emily Dickinson. I found it fitting to have a poem about hope written by a depressed homely anti-social recluse to reflect my years in high school. No one got it but me. But that's never mattered.

The Bangs remained gone until a disasterous haircut senior year of college where they, without my consent, returned (I didn't tip that bitch) and then were grown out again.

I have included for your enjoyment and for the embarassment of my dear friends, some other awesome mid-nineties hair straight from the pages of the Brookfield East High School Year Book. Enjoy!

WAYNE.

Wayne preferred the slicked back look. He was cool like that. Wayne was always coooool, sort of a Travolta type but with a heart of gold. He was so freaking cool, once he picked me up from school and we did shots of Goldshlagger in his car. He totally became my brother after Tate moved away. They were somewhat interchangeable except that Wayne didn't have such smelly feet. I used to go hang out at Waynes a lot since he was one of the only kids who didn't live in a big suburban white house on a cul du sac and therefore his place was deemed "coolest". Apparantly his mom knitted me some socks recently, but I haven't seen 'em.

LISA:

Lisa was a rockstar ahead of her time. She was doing that whole criss-cross part thing before anyone. She's always been a style guru. Look at how much more over school she was than even me, she didn't even have a senior quote, snarky or not. High school is a lot harder for people who are legitimatally rockstars like she was. We were best friends through high school and have matching tatoos on our backs of little stars. Come visit me again soon Liesel!

TATE.

Tate was some serious hot shit in high school. Everyone loved him. I was jealous, but it kept me safe too, "Oh, you're Tate Allen's little sister? How cuuuuute! What's he like?" Tate was a stud because he was the best diver, the best singer, the best actor, the best kid in our family though no one realized it till later, and was on the football team (notice I didn't say he was the best player). Anyway, this is Tatums with his sort of mid length-do that he sported and all the ladies loved. A lot of the underclassman tried to replicate this look...such as...oh, I don't know...

EDDIE.

This is Eddie, who is my good friend now but who I didn't actually know in high school although we're trying to figure out how that is possible since we seemed to have all the same friends. Although he did recently fess up to being part of a lunch table that made fun of the girls at my lunch table freshman year. Eddie and I remet here in Chicago when we ran into each other at this awesome raging club called "The Friendster". Apparantly Eddie also thought my brother was hot shit and did his hair after him. It won him Prom King that year. Today Eddie made me look at this picture in the yearbook and I said, "Oh, you look sort of like a Native American" and he said "Yeah, if by Native American you mean baaaaaad-ass" I don't actually know what either of us meant, but it's been making me laugh all day.

And finally...

JOHN.

Johnny was/ is such a cutie pie sweetheart. He was my first date to my first dance. And to THIS DAY he denies that that was a mullet. It is so a mullet. A mullet with bangs even. It couldn't get more mulletesque. To his credit, that MULLET did dissapear shortly after ninth grade. Johnny was then only seen in hats and ponytails for the next three years. I saw him a couple weeks ago though and am pleased to report that his hair is totally cut normally, even stylishly, even cutely at this time.

I hope you enjoyed these Hair-larious pictures. (oh my god, I should go write greeting cards. Everytime I write something lame like that I save it so I can use it again when my future teen aged children invite friends over.)

Bye!