Because there are few things more representative of the teen years that the battles you fight with you hair. And few things chronicle a woman's life better than her hair.
I happened to grow up in the era of BIG 80s hair. Snooki has NOTHING on me. NOTHING. You think I'm kidding? Check out the photographic evidence.
BIG. BIG. GIANT. HAIR. And the BATTLES to get it that way. Hot rollers. Curling irons. Perms.
Then . . . I turned 20 and my first white hair appeared. Premature gray runs in my family on my mom's side--but they're all blonde. In my (natural) hair color of dark brown/black (photo above was a dye job) . . . it showed up. So I had NEW battles to fight. Dying it every four weeks. For YEARS. As long as I was dying it, I tried red, black, striped, highlighted. It was only hair, right?
I also stopped trying for the big hair thing (thank God, right?). Only this weird thing happened and it got more unruly the older I got.
Eventually . . . I reached some sense of peace. With myself. And my hair. Then this summer I spent a long stretch in the hospital. And if ever there was a time to let the "real" me come out, it was then. I wasn't able to get to the salon anyway. So I decided to see what was under all that dye. And it turns out, it's ALL white. So this is the new me.
And this me is ME. My real color (who knew after all this time???).
Ahh, but my hair? Thanks for the memories.
So how about you? Is you hair some sort of timeline of your life?