The Worst Haircut/Style You've Had

In My Humble Opinion
21

I, on the other hand, had the BIGGEST of the '80s hair. Huge. Mammoth.

To style it, I would hold my blow dryer so the hair was blowing straight out to the side, and then spray the shit out of it to get it to stay. I would then use my curling iron to put a curl at the end of the hair. Essentially, it went straight out, and then curled on the end. I did that with my whole head.

The walls in my bathroom would be coated with a thick shellac of hairspray. I used to blast through about a can every two weeks.

It was totally fabulous. Girls in high school used to complement me, tell me I had the best hair, ask me how I did it, and line up so I could do theirs during Beauty Culture.

Occasionally, at my office, I’ll bring in the Parade of Hair photos to show off.

Ahh, good times, good times. :smiley:

22

Let’s see…there’s the time I put “Sun-In” on my red hair so it would have blonde streaks. Riiiiiiiight. It had orange streaks. Pumpkin orange.

Then there was the time I decided I wanted a “body wave” in my almost waist-length hair. My hair has very little body, so I decided a body wave would add just enough “bounce.” I was unhappy with it when I left the salon. The next morning I was horrified. I ended up having to have it all cut. In my wedding pictures I look like a poodle. I’ve never tried a perm again.

23

I had a ridiculous-looking bowl cut from about the age of 8 to 10. The higher the ratio of the hair length on top to that of the bottom, the cooler, I thought. I tried to persuade my mom to let me get it completely shaved on the bottom but, thank God, she didn’t let me. Thankfully, my dad made me get a buzz cut.

24

I’d have to say my biggest hair disaster was the compulsory boot camp shaving-it-all-off. My hairline and head shape are actually fantastic for it, but at the time I had three big cysts on my scalp that Medical wouldn’t lop off because I told them they didn’t hurt or itch (which was true). If only I had a dime for every time someone asked me if I hit my head or thoughtfully informed me I had a bump on my head! Eventually I started making up stories. I got some of my buddies in on the act, too. We had some good ones.

Remember back in 1998 when every male under 25 had massive British Punk spikes? Not the nice, curly spikes, but the dinosaur-killer spikes. Yeah, I was in on that too. (Now that I think about it, that may have just been a San Diego thing.)

FWIW, us college sophomores call that a ninehead.

Can we see a pic? Pretty please?

25

My hair naturally parts on my left. It’s a very definite part- it does not wish to be parted anywhere else and will fight against it and somehow find its way to parting on the left.

In the early 1980s when I was a pubescent teenager who had just discovered showering and hair products I decided to do something about fashion I joined the herd by parting it down the middle with about 1/8 inch of scalp showing (“the razor part” or “razorline”). I had a unique style of dressing at the time- a very flashy uncle had died in 1979 and because we were almost exactly the same size my aunt gave me his “1970s middle aged po-boy-made-good rad” shirts which are hard to describe- they almost all had zippers from throat to chest, were made out of synthetics and elements found only in asteroids and whale oil and dyed an ‘interesting’ array of colors, and this with the razor parted poofed up hair gave me a definite style, rather like Emo Phillips has a definite style. Each day the natural part would start to do the “nnnnnnnnnooooooooooo… hair can not have two masters and I will not be vanquished…” and by each afternoon it would be a goofy looking mess with half razor part and half leftist part. Out of sheer stubborness I insisted on keeping it until after the look was popular just to see if I could get it to cooperate but finally a (straight redneck) stylist said “No boy, I’m partin’ it on the left… you gone thank me”. Took a while but I did.

The worst hairstyle I ever had was when I was in a college production of Night of the Iguana as a honeymooning pro-Nazi German. The prof/director asked if I would mind a Nazi officer hairstyle- I thought, yeah, okay, a Göring or Heydrich is a lot shorter than I usually wear it on the sides but it’ll grow back. I went to the theater barber and gave him a picture of Göring and said “no shorter than that” to which he said “Okey doke” and proceeded to give me a Himmler, essentially bald on sides up to the eyeglasses and then tufts on top. I was LIVID and only because the professor (one of those bitter professorial never-weres who thinks the reason they never won a Tony and or an Oscar is because of a cretinous conspiracy on the part of the world- impossible to talk to them- I’ve met one theater professor in my life who would be worth more than his body chemicals) had to call me begging and pleading, and even then I only went back because I had a crush on the other Nazi and knew he was going to be shirtless. I was essentially blackballed from theater for being a “drama queen” from then on, but that hairstyle warranted it.

I never quite got it into my mind that I’m simply NOT a long hair person and when I finally got a job without major requirements about personal appearance in the mid 90s I grew my hair as long as I could stand it. It touched the bottom of my neck in about seven strands or so but just got thinner the further down it went. Looked really bad but my friends were nice enough to let me get it out of my system.

Irrelevant sidenote: a couple of years ago I was having my hair cut by a glassy eyed she-stylist who always did a good job but gave me the creeps while doing it. She didn’t talk a lot while cutting hair (which is one of my most desired traits in a haircutter) but this time she asked “so how long you wore your ha’r like this?” and I told her most of my life, but [see razor part section above]. She grinned, “I cain’t eh-magine you with no razor part. I shore 'member those” and, while she’s trimming my hair, proceeds to tell me “and one time I had this other dream where my grandmama, she was real mean, ooh I hated her and used to be so scared o’ her… she died before I was born…” [sic] “…well, she tied us all up in our chairs, me and my mama and daddy and my brothers and my sisters ever’ one of us and she give us all razor part hairstyles down the middle, and I just hated ‘em, but I figured at least she’ll let us go now. Then she takes out this straight razor and just starts goin’ to ever’ one of us and using that razor sharp straight razor to cut a slash down our heads and let the demons in us that was in us in the dream you know out… and just as she put that razor on my razor part and started to slice open my scalp with it I woke up screamin’ so loud my husband ran into my bedroom with the gun in his hand. You’re all done, that’ll be nine dollars please…”

It was a great haircut, actually, but I never went to her again. And I think I had a nightmare about her grandmother that night.

26

The worst for me isn’t horrible but i certainly regretted it. My hair was almost down to my waist. Long, dark and pretty. I got compliments all the time. Then I cut it all off. It was about 2 inches above my shoulder. After I did that, my boyfriend at the time had longer hair than I did. That was awkward.

I’m happy that I was a bit too young to follow any of the 80’s trends. (I’m 20 now)

27

I cut my own hair at the beginning of last year; as close to a buzzcut as I could get with semi-decent scissors and no mirror. I didn’t think it looked all that bad, but pretty much everyone disagreed… A day or two later my mom took me to the barber to get it fixed, and since then I’ve gotten my hair cut every time it got long enough that combing it actually made a real difference. It’s maybe an inch long at the moment, easily less.

28

For some 13 years, I had the same haircut as Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber.

29

About 10 years ago, I went my usual barber. He wasn’t necessarily that good, but I never had to wait and his shop was across the street from my office.

So, I’m sitting in the chair making small talk. I bring up a bizarre attempted murder that happened in our small town. A 60ish military guy came back to his hometown after his retirement. He started volunteering at the library and fell in love with a 22 year old that worked there. She didn’t return his affection or really even realize what was going on until her boyfriend didn’t show up for work one day. Some co-workers went to his house after work to find out why he didn’t come into work and found him in his backyard shed shot. He didn’t die, but is now a parapalegic.

Anyway, the barber told me the young man was his nephew and it rattled him when I brought it up. He butchered my hair so badly, when I went to a hairstylist the next time and she asked me if I had cut it myself.

30

“Paraplegic”, like “athlete”, has no “a” in the middle.

Just fightin’ a little ign’nce.

31

The permanent I had for a while in the early 80’s was regrettable. It made me look uncomfortably like Art Garfunkel.

32

Man, the 80’s. I was waaaay into skateboarding and was just discovering “Punk” via Thrasher magazine. Enough of the normal suburban white kid look; I wanted a really cool punk haircut. I convinced my mom that I was old enough to go to SuperCuts and get my own hair cut. I requested that they shave exactly one half of my head. I had worn my hair parted down the middle before this, so the end result was looking like I had brain surgery. Really the effect was more than startling. Not exactly punk, but the reaction was the same…

When I came home my mom FREAKED out, and I made up a story about falling on my way home next to a house with loose aluminum siding that was just at the right angle that it cut all the hair off my head. Not the best improv story of my career. :rolleyes:

Needless to say we “fixed” it into one of those “whole head shaved except for some really long bangs on one side” look that was popular with the skate kids at the time. I was almost 17 before I was allowed to go and get my hair cut by myself again.

33

Okay, first of all, I’m LOL at Sampiro naming all those Nazi hairstyles as if those guys were perkily-coiffed skaters or something.

But, anyway, I was into spiky back in the late 80’s and, at one point, looked like a lesbian pineapple with a mohawk. (I’m neither lesbian nor pineapple, btw.) It was so awful that people commented in the streets. Grown people who should know better. Then I got the spiky top cut off and had essentially a crew cut which should have looked hideous but didn’t.

34

Well, I mentioned some of my worst haircuts in the other thread, but never fear, I have more:

Ninth grade, when I had hair a little longer than my shoulders and parted on one side. I used my curling iron to style one side back in a big feathery swoop, exposing my giant forehead, then shellacked the swoop with many coats of hairspray. It flapped independently of the rest of my hair whenever the wind blew.

When I was about twenty, I cut my bangs so very, very short that I decided the only way to fix it was to have all my hair cut short enough to match. I then tried to bleach it blonde, which resulted in a nice shade of orange. I didn’t look nearly as good as Annie Lennox. However, when I accompanied a friend to Gay Day at Disney World that year, I did get hit on a lot.

35

Oh, the 80s. What on earth were we thinking?

I had the long flowing hair in back/big huge poofy bangs capable of interfering with satellite communications in front thing going on. I remember seeing one of the teachers bringing the Picture Day photographer an aspirin and a cup of water; seems he had a headache from trying to fit all the girls’s hair into the frame.

I was also a disciple of Sun-In. By sophomore year my hair was white. Then I decided to let it grow out. The picture on my very first drivers license is a hoot; brown poofy bangs and bleached out length.

I’ve had a poodle perm, a mullet, a pixie (blame that one on my mom; that’s how she made me wear my hair when I was small), bleached hair, black hair (made me look like Morticia after the autopsy), red hair, brown hair, and everything in between. These days I just leave it alone; I figure it’s been through enough.

36

Not me, but a classmate had the worst hair I have ever had the misfortune to encounter a few years ago. To start, he cut most of it in a buzzcut and bleached it blonde. The section he didn’t cut was a strip down the center, about one inch on either side of his part. This section was several inches long, dyed bright orange, and swept forward into two sharp points that went down to his eyes. It would have been bad hair for an anime character; for a human, it was atrocious. I’m still not sure what he was thinking.

37

September 1989. My freshman year of high school. Like most other teenage girls on Long Island I had the long, permed hair and the 5-inch-high bangs. I went through a can of hairspray every two weeks.

We all thought we looked so good, too. What the hell was I thinking? :smack:

38

I too had a bowl cut from the ages of 6-8, which made it easy for people to call me a boy (even though I had a thing for floral stirrup pants at the time too). I grew my hair in rebellion in 3rd grade and haven’t gone above my chin with any success since then.

39

hee

I had the stereotypical Asian babychild bowl cut.

Then there was the time when I was about eight that my mother took it into her head to convince me to give a perm a go. Didn’t improve matters none that I needed glasses by that time. I went back to school with this giant Asian afro and these really big squarish magneta glasses onna string. :smack: It’s no wonder I’m such a bitter woman.

Babies, I have never, ever had a perm since, and that was near on twenty years ago. And I never will, I swear. When I’m sixty, I will not perm my hair into those helmets. I’ll just go bald, thanks very much.

40

When I was about nine, I lived with an aunt for a while. She didn’t have any kids of her own, and looking back on it, I think she was trying to make me into her child.

She took me to the salon and had my hair done exactly like hers. She was a forty-year-old woman, and a short, permed 'do looked fine on her, but it looked absurd on a nine-year-old kid. I lived with her for almost three years, and had to keep that haircut the whole time. I was teased mercilessly at school. (And I cringe whenever I see photos of myself at that time. I look like I’m playing a granny in a school play, or was trying for an afro and failed.)