Mouseketeers and Molly Ringwald

The Best Friend is looking pretty hot these days. Don’t get me wrong, she’s always been gorgeous, she just has a little extra ‘va’ to her ‘voom’ lately. Now that we have a couple hours distance between us we don’t see each other as often. We have to keep up via facebook and the like. I’ve noticed a trend with the pictures she’s posted as of late – her hair keeps getting shorter and she keeps getting prettier. It made me wonder – very briefly – if that theory would work on me.

I’m impressed that The Best Friend had the guts to chop her hair again. I remember when she first experimented with cutting her hair short. We were in the days of The Mickey Mouse Club churning out pop stars. The Best Friend, whose curly hair beats mine any day, excited told me one day that she was going to go to the salon. Her mom had booked her a hair appointment the following day and she would be returning with long, golden locks ala Christina Aguilera. She did, indeed, return with the hair of a Mousketeer. Unfortunately, her short, curly hair with bleach-blond highlights was more along the lines of Justin Timberlake than Christina Aguilera. I can’t help but giggle at the memory, though I, too, have had my fair share of wearing the hair of a pre-pubescent boy.

The first time I cut my hair short I was in junior high and on my way to an ice skating party. I brought a friend with my and swore her to secrecy – I wanted to show up to the party with a chic new haircut, surprising everyone. My mother, who at the time still rocked an 80’s perm, took me to her hair dresser. I should have known that this wouldn’t be good, but childhood innocence left me in the dark. It didn’t dawn on me that I perhaps should have picked a different hairdresser until I was perusing the books in the waiting room… one 80’s cut after the other. I attempted to explain to the hairdresser what I wanted, but, being as young as I was, I didn’t realize that she needed more than ‘cute’ and ‘short’ to get a better picture. I walked out of that place with my curly hair chopped short and angular, then teased to a volume I’ve never seen before – a volume only Molly Ringwald could appreciate. My friend attempted to stifle giggles while I attempted to hold back tears. I spent that ice skating party tugging a hat as tightly over my ears as possible, though I swear my hair was teased and sprayed to the point that the hat stood three inches above my scalp.

The Moral of the Story: Today I Love Mouseketeers and Molly Ringwald. I just don’t want to look like either.