Come on, we know she did. Tell us why you went around looking so afflicted when you were little!
As for me, I had long, blonde, glorious hair…so my mom parted it on the side, pulled it tightly away from my giant forehead, and put a stupid hairclip in it. She always said, “It’ll fall a little bit”, but she LIED.
Oh, god. My parents had a devil of a time with my curly hair, and in the eighties, you were pretty much fucked if you had curly hair. They had no curly hair products. All hair products were for soft, silky hair, and everybody with kinky or different hair had to deal with it. All of the salonists believed curly hair should be BIG hair, too.
So I had to deal with a really really short boycut for a while. That was pretty awful. It still curled. Then, when it grew out, it was so curly it would just curl into these masses.
My mom didn’t like my hair short in HS so she insisted I grow it out. I mean, literally, “If you don’t grow your hair out, you don’t love me.” Then when I grew it out, she hated it and made me cut it. I still hate my HS pictures.
Clothes were worse. My parents had no idea of fashion and trends at all. I don’t mean that I should have been allowed to wear all of the latest fashions, but I went from pretty dresses as a child to horrible sweater vests and polyester pants. To make matters worse I had a pair of aunts who were permanently stuck in the seventies and used to buy me these awful clothes.
In third grade or so, when I started wearing glasses, my grandma always picked out brownish-black tortoiseshell frames. After several years of that, I was allowed to choose my own, and I got some pale pink ones. Grandma looked doubtful, then said, “Well…those look better, don’t they?” :smack:
My mama dressed me so funny I think it was a big part of why I was so unpopular in primary school. My grandma liked to shop at thrift stores, and almost every week she’d bring Mom some codawful pink polyester houndstooth pantsuit or some such thing for me. Mom loved it because that meant she didn’t ever have to buy me clothes. In fourth grade I got glasses and Mom picked these weird square ones that didn’t match my face at all. I had long hair too, gorgeous hair down to my knees, but Ma always kept it in a super tight braid so it was easier for her to deal with. I even have a cite.
My Mom loves fluffy, short hair. I had gorgeous long hair and then they cut it before kindergarten. I had the worst boycut ever. My hair was so short. And then when it got long enough, Mom never put product in it so I had poofy hair once it dried.
I’ll never have good hair. It’s thick and wavy. I want Victoria Beckham’s hair.
Oh, and I always dressed in the wrong brands and the ickiest clothes ever. For some reason my parents never bought me jeans, so I had Adidas pants and horrible green cordoroy things and stuff. Mid-90s this was.
A lot of women pay a shit-ton of money to make their hair appear wavy. Most of them would cheerfully kill for thicker hair. Grass is always greener, and all that…
My mother knitted a lot of my clothes when I was a kid. I had a vest at one point, crochet, with flowers and IIRC a picket fence. I got rid of it as soon as I could - not soon enough - though now I kinda wish I had it, as evidence before a court of law.
ETA: Kushiel, thick and wavy isn’t good hair? What kind of hair do you want? Fine, thin hair? I’ve never heard of someone not wanting rich, thick hair. Granted, I’m biased because that’s the kind of hair I have but people are always telling me what good hair I have…
My mom forced me to wear my hair in a pixie until I was in junior high school because she loved how it looked on Audrey Hepburn. Suffice it to say, I’m no Audrey Hepburn and it just made me look like a chubby boy.
She also made me wear stretch polyester pants with the seams sewn in down the front. Urg.
ETA: Sorry, they do now. I guess I don’t think of Victoria Beckham as someone with great hair. It’s sleek, I guess. I just generally prefer big, flowing hair. My hair does look “sleek” after my Chinese hairdresser blows the hell out of it, but I hate it because it looks so flat and pin straight. When I blow it out, I want it to be as big and full as I can get it. Guess that’s just a difference of preference.
I wore my older sister’s hand-me-downs. She was shorter and fatter than I was. I looked dreadful.
The only time I got new clothes is when my mother put my younger sister in me in matching outfits. My younger sister was a blonde, so she bought pastels. I look so washed out in pastels everyone thought I was sick.