A few months after being hatched on February 22, 1964. I was already goofing off in front of the camera. Momma said I liked to bump my crib over to her closet and pull out all her clothes.

Unaware that the Curler Fairy paid me a visit that morning, I grin at the camera and try to ignore the stiff lace at my neck. As you can tell, Momma let Daddy cut my bangs again.

Being a two-year-old was full of fun and games. The best part was playing "Pull My Finger" with Daddy.

After turning three, I discovered the ragamuffin look was in.

Daddy once again showed off his barbering skills by shearing off my hair. Of course, this might've been a safety issue because my hair kept getting in the way when I played with worms.

Here I am in the first grade. My favorite memory of that year was hearing that there was a REST room available to us. Wow, a room to visit whenever we got tired! When I took my turn in the restroom, I was shocked to find a tile floor, toilet, and sink.

By the second grade, you can tell by my confident grin that I had the restroom business down pat. Unfortunately, the evil Curler Fairy paid me another visit making me look sort of like a cocker spaniel.

Turning eight, I became quite shy when at school. Most of the girls talked about playing with their Barbie dolls, but I was more interested in bugs. Momma hated cleaning out my pants pockets because she never knew what kind of wild life she'd find.

Being 11, I started breaking out of my shyness and I embraced the early seventies. I still loved playing with bugs, but didn't like the fashion choices available to me. Bell-bottom pants were the worst because they'd always get caught in my bicycle chain.

Speaking of fashion, look at me blushing because of having to wear this hideous powder blue leisure suit at the tender age of ten. There ought to be a law.

Middle school was a new frontier for me. My hair was long enough for me to sit on and & joy of joys & I actually got to dissect a huge worm!

Still not wanting to cut my hair, I started using a curling iron to feather my bangs back. If you look closely, you'll see a curling iron burn on my forehead. This was the year I discovered hairspray.

Not satisfied with merely curling my bangs, I started curling the sides of my hair in hopes to get the Farrah Flip. I now went through a can of hairspray a week.

I forgot to mention that I played the trumpet in the middle school's band. Here I am posing sweetly with my medals. I finally cut off my hair, but held on to the Farrah Flip.

At the end of the 8^th grade, I had succumbed totally to the Farrah Flip. I was up to two cans of hairspray a week and if anyone dared to touch my hair, I'd cry. Big hair is an understatement.

Starting high school was a big change. Momma made me cut back on my hairspray use, so I cut off all my hair.

Turning 16 I discovered how to use forty pounds of green and brown eyeshadow.

Getting a bit older and realizing that the 1980s meant big hair, I began using rollers to increase the volume of my hair. The sad thing is that I thought I really looked good.

Here my hair was shorter still and I once again became obsessed with perfection. That, or I watched too much Saturday Night Live and tried to become a cone head.

Finally as a senior in high school, I slacked off the hairspray and focused on what all other kids my age focused on: partying. I could dip Skoal for hours.