The rise and fall of the hirsute hegemony (2/3)

Today we finish going through elementary school, zip right on through junior high, and end up at my first year of high school.

If we consider this three day trip and try to relate it to the Hero's Journey, grade seven can definitely be called the nadir.  It was my lowest point.  It's one redeeming quality is the fact that I came out of it (somehow) and have been given proof on a number of separate occasions that I am reasonably attractive to the opposite sex.

It was not then the case.  Unfortunately, that year, I don't think I could blame my mother.

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Grade 5.

I think I got into my first and only fight this year.  Ever.  It was with Cameron, a very good friend of mine, and lasted all of about two minutes.  I have no idea what caused it.  We did little more than push each other around and he eventually knocked me to the ground.  My only reaction then was to lash out and bite him very hard on the achilles tendon.

I'm a lover, not a fighter.

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Grade 6.

This was the year I was the big man in school.  Getting ready to head off to junior high the next year.  Still waiting for my eyebrows to grow in.

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Grade 7.

I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to any man I may have maligned by teasing him about his white and/or pale blue jeans worn some time in his past.  How I lubed myself up and squeezed into this number for these pictures, I'll never know.  If it's any consolation, I was showing this whole set of pictures to Declan this weekend and as soon as this one popped up on the screen he treated me with the exclamation, "Look Daddy!  A lady!"  I very nearly have the camel toe to prove him right.

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Grade 8.

If last year was the nadir, this wasn't too much better.  But it's what going on outside your view that makes it worse for me.

The only redeeming feature of my grade 8 photos was the tasteful navy polo shirt I have on there.  Over top of it is my brand new cardigan sweater.  Why my mother thought I was over 50 and needed to wear a cardigan I'll never know nor forgive her for doing.  Even worse was that she made me go to school with a pair of white hot sailor slacks underneath the sartorial ignominy that's visible below.  You could cut someone with the sharp crease running down the leg.  And as I rode my bike to school with my creamy cardigan flapping in the breeze, I pedalled with my beat up red converse high-top basketball sneakers.

Thanks Mom.

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Grade 9.

Again, I survived the preceding year.  Hope reigns supreme.  I had braces only on my top six teeth to straighten out the two on either side of my front teeth.  One's still a little crooked, but I like to think it's endearingly so.  This was the year I went to China for two weeks in May and got roundhouse slapped by a cute blonde from another school while we were in Hong Kong.  I realised then that there's more to an education than can be found in the classroom.

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Grade 10.

Nearing the end of my Corey Hart phase.  His was the first concert I ever went to, accompanied by my mom.  I think the songs were pretty good, but there was a pair of girls right behind us that screamed incoherently and annoyingly for the entire thing.

I refused to wear a toque in the winter unless it was REALLY cold out since it would have messed up my hair.  I could have taken somebody's eye out with that coif.  There was one day I got home and could barely feel my ears from the cold.  I fondled one tenderly and felt the cartilage crackle under my fingers.  Smrt boy, was I.

Tomorrow will see the end of this brief journey.  The last two years of high school, and after, university and my entrance to the work force.  Then did the great hair migration from head to back truly begin.

Comments

[Dave]

*ROTFL* Love the pictures Simon!! Where's the mullet though??

[TerriTorial]

Loving these pictures! It's a flashback too all the guys I knew growing up.

[JuJuBee]

The picture with the white jeans accurately portrays most of the women that One Wink works with...no kidding, ask her. At least you had the sense to move on from that look. If it makes you feel any better, Madeline was on my lap and asked, "Who dat guy?" when that pic came up.

[Mark]

My abs are hurting from absorbing all the laughter sparked by that 7th-grade pic and accompanying comments on it and the 8th-grade shot.

This is priceless, and I admit now I want to trot mine out for some fun. Mine will have to wait a while, as they're all at my parents' house.

One thing you had going for you? You never seemed to fall victim to the home perm. For that you should be forever grateful.

[marian]

Wow, this was actually kind of painful for me, having just lived throught this series in the flesh with my own progeny. It's very relieving for me to sort of know you as an adult.

Also, and remember this now, Amy, it is NOT RIGHT for a mother to try to dictate what a child wears after, say, third grade.

Camel-toe! ha!

[Moksha Gren]

You're a brave man, Si.

I remember a few years after my folks got divorced, Mom came over to Dad's house so they could sit down and split up childhood pictures of my brother and me. Most of the kid pics were fought over in a friendly way until the pictures of me in my junior high school years. They tried to be smooth about it...but the arguements slowly shifted from, "I want that one," to "No, seriously, you can have that one....please take that one." The good news is that no matter how awkward Norah's early teen years may get...I can always pull out thost photos and say, "See...it could be worse. And even I turned out just fine."

[Simon]

Dave, the mullet was back in the previous day's post. Look for it. It's there.

Ju, thanks for the reassurance. I really do appreciate that.

Mark, that pants comment was for you. I really am sorry. (now) I never did do the home perm thing, but I did have a small pony tail for a while, which I'm leaving out of these to preserve some vestiges of dignity.

Marian, I think Amy and I will be kinder to our kids in their choices of what to wear at school.

Moksha, I'm still hoping to turn out fine. Getting there. And a darn sight further along than I was in these pics. So that's some progress at least.

[Linda]

Simon, take comfort, sweetheart. I have the worst growing up pictures in the history of the world. You'll have to take my word for it cause you'll never get the chance to decide for youself! It's sooo cool to see your face developing into the one I'm familiar with now. I was worried up until aboot 6th grade, cause you looked like someone else! I can see hints of Dex around your eyes here and there.
I wondered if that jeans rip was for Mark...
Ju, ha ha. There are not THAT many women who look like that where I work. Maybe 6 or 7 but that was funny!

[M]

Geez,
Your poor Mother sure takes a beating in some of your posts. I bet she's a really nice person despite how she used to dress her kids. Yeah, and she's probably having a good laugh at these pages of history as well.

[Mark]

This thread may be too dead for this now, but here's a link to the aforementioned jeans that Simon and Linda (and maybe someone else?) reference above.

[Alvis]

It kind of does look like you have a mullet in that 7th grade picture. You would have fit right in the southern U.S.

Say, "Ya'll." Just try it. :)

[Monique]

You know it's going to be bad when your parent refers to your pants as "slacks".

As a consolation, no one I know can look at their junior high photos and not run away screaming. You just want to go bad and tell yourself that things won't suck forever, and maybe someday you might be cool. Or marry someone cool. Either way is good. :)