Ah, first-day-of-school memories…

I’ll post the obligatory photos of my own sweet off-spring just as soon as Hubs emails or texts them to me.

Meanwhile, let’s wander back into the glorious 80s, when the spiral perm, giant shellacked bangs and designer jeans reined.

Now there is big hair and then there is Texas BIG HAIR. As a native Texan, I can assure you that there’s a difference.

This is my hair in its natural state:

This was my 80s hair in its Texas state, thanks to a spiral, a pick, back-combing, a hair dryer and copious amounts of hair spray:

Sometimes, when I bother to actually do something with my hair, Hubs has to gently inform me that I’ve accidentally gone a little overboard with the bigness and the hair spray. You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t take away her genetic leanings for big-ass hair.

Anyway.

Moving on to designer jeans of the 80s. As I recall, most were supposed to be skintight, with the exception of “baggies,” which made a brief appearance in junior high fashion at my school. (Baggies were fitted at the waist and rear and looser on the legs.)

But oh the joy of boasting a horse or a swan or pinstriping on your butt!

Oh, how I loved my jeans! If only they hadn’t been so difficult to get into.

Remember how long it took to shimmy and slither into a pair? Remember sucking in and sending up a silent prayer as you attempted to wrench the zipper up all the way?

One fateful morning, I was in a hurry and had no time to wrestle with a most unobliging zipper. So I headed out to the garage, rummaged through my dad’s tools and took a pair of pliers to my zipper.

Unfortunately, my head was bent over during this little task. Which is why, when the pliers slipped off the zipper, I bonked my forehead with them.

Yeah, my jeans were zipped and looking fabulous.

But my forehead now sported a rapidly growing goose egg that I knew would be the color of my jeans in just a few hours.

I pleaded with my mother to stay home from school. Strangely, the woman had no sympathy at all. In fact, I seem to recall that she looked rather smug, likely because she was NOT a fan of jeans that looked painted on.

I don’t remember how I explained away that knot on my head. But I’m quite certain the explanation contained no mention of Dad’s pliers.

Happy first day, everyone!