Bees, Then and Now: The Trailmix Edition

When I was in high school, I expressed my teenage angst through my hair.  True story. Want proof? OK, I'll show you exactly one photo and then the memories are going back into the deeply-buried vault, where I never have to re-live the awkwardness that was high school again...

Can you believe that was me? Now stop laughing and focus, please.  My hair ran the gamut of colors from the blonde above to red to pink to blue and from short to shorter to (dare I reveal this?) a classic, T-Boz-inspired, mid-90's asymmetrical cut (it was in seventh grade, shut up!)  My friends from high school still won't let me live that one down.  But you can stop right there because there's no way in H-E-double hockey sticks I'm showing y'all photographic evidence of that catastrophe! 

Looking back, it seems pretty obvious to me that the reason behind my ever-changing hairstyle was rooted in my insecurities.  I always felt like a total loser in high school, even though to the casual observer, I probably seemed like a happy, well-adjusted (although slightly kooky) teenager.

But on the inside, I was writhing in insecurity over every anguished flaw.  I look back at journal entries that lamented my hatred of both my physical and mental self and it makes me sad.  I wasted a lot of energy being self-conscious.  What I never realized at the time was that most of my peers were probably feeling exactly the same way (I mean, come on, isn't it a universal truth that high school sucks?) But I never saw this and instead, used my crazy-colored hair as a distraction technique, so other kids would maybe think I was "cool." 

But thankfully, now, as high school memories dim (I'm fast approaching my ten-year reunion,) I can look back at who I was then and feel proud of how far I've come.  A huge part of that personal growth is due to Mr Trailmix.  He clearly adored me from the get-go (I mean, who wouldn't? Zing!) But I owe him a huge debt of gratitude for finally banishing the insecurity demons that plagued me through high school.  Thanks, babe. He also encouraged me to grow my hair out and relax on the coloring/cutting fixations.

So while I'm far from perfect and sometimes, I still get down about my strange little quirks (my natural speaking voice is akin to what some might call "shouting."  Quiet, I am not) but overall, I finally feel happy with myself and who I am.  It only took me ten years to get to this point and while the road here wasn't always smooth, the end result has left me a happier, healthier Trailmix. 

What's your high school hair trauma story? Come on, we all have them, 'fess up!