Talk about a bad hair day

Yeah, that's me, 1960. Bad hair day! Well, it was probably a good hair day, but you can see how curly my hair was, and in back of all that curly hair was a pony tail which was just a little knob. My hair, wet, would have been down below my shoulders, but pulled up and dried? Not so long.

Lori, this one's for you.

Lori posted, several months ago, on her Friday Picture Show a picture of her in the 1980s where her hair was BIG. Well, lucky for her BIG was in, in the 80s, but it wasn't in, in the 50s and early 60s. No, no, no. Straight was the style. I never had straight hair except for one day, two days ago.

Now, I'm used to the curl and I guess I'm glad for it because all I have to do it wash and fluff. I still have a pony tail which is just a knob in the back of my head, but I can wear the hair down and it DOES reach my shoulders at this point.

I also want you all to notice the blouse I'm wearing. It's the same one I was wearing in the picture I posted several days (or was it weeks) ago when I'm in that picture of Alan and me (the black and white). Just goes to show you how few clothes I had when I was growing up. And that was a good year. I had three blouses and two "pencil" (we called them straight) skirts which I had sewn (the skirts, that is), and two pairs of peddle pushers. I think they call them Capris now, or are capris tapered slacks? I can't remember, but I thought I had quite a closet full of clothes that summer. I did, of course, have at that point TWO, count 'em, TWO Sunday dresses which I absolutely loved. One was a beautiful lavender cotton dress with two pleats down the side (gave me some hips which I didn't have at that time) and there were buttons to hold the pleats in place. And I had a wonderful shirt-waist dress which was tan with black doo-dads printed on the tan background. I loved that dress as well.

So, you see, when you start thinking about how poor we were, then realize that we weren't all that poor, considering I had all those clothes (albeit the three blouses were hand-me-downs from my cousin Bette E). And I thank God for all those hand-me-downs, which at that point I was no longer handing-me-down to my sister. She was on her own at that point, and being the clothes horse she always was -- she always could wear a sack and look like she was wearing a designer dress -- I didn't mind not giving my clothes over to her.

Let her wear sacks, I thought. She could do it. Just check out some of her teen-age pictures. You'll see what I mean. And no, I didn't leave the "l" out of the word "sacks". I mean she could wear a burlap sack and look great. How envious I was of her ability to do that. She still looks great in no matter what she wears. I still look shleppy. Guess it's in the posture!

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