That poor little child in the red sweater with the precision-cut bangs and soft, face-framing layers originally asked for the Dorothy Hamill, but her mom told her that was out of style. Luckily her baby brother could always be counted on to wear an actual bowl on his head, detracting from her own.
I grew out the haircut in time for my well-intentioned mom to administer the worst home perm ever in the history of home perms, somewhat offset by my Easter (egg) dress. The pearls are real, as is my hair color. This girl is a looker!
The Interventionist, Kari, with Caroline after First Communion. Note the fashionably layered scarf over the necklace, the smooth never-frizzy hair, and the waistline hidden behind her elbow. My awkward phase? 32 years. Kari's? 15 minutes. Growing up with Kari was awesome.