Skip to content
March 6, 2011 / Lauren

Mull it over.

When I was 16 years old, I had a bit of a bizarre summertime hobby. I would spend those long, hot days traversing Broken Arrow- combing every Wal-Mart aisle and every bowling alley lane- looking for people with mullets. I always had a disposable camera on hand (remember those?) to snap photos of the various types of mullets I encountered. At first, I used the hey-friend-stand-over-there-I’m-going-to-pretend-to-be-taking-a-photo-of-you-but-the-subject-is-actually-Billy-Ray-Cyrus-behind-you method to get the snapshots I desired. As I became more bold, I started to use the oh-my-gosh-you-look-EXACTLY-like-my-uncle-I-happen-to-have-a-camera-can-I-please-get-a-picture-to-show-him? method.

I had a mulletin board in my room. I had a 40 page mullet scrapbook titled Mull and Void. It was a big hit with my friends. In the scrapbook, I named and rated each mullet on a 10-point scale. For obvious reasons, bonus points were awarded to wearers of the permed mullet.

Why was I so intrigued with the Missouri compromise? (My favorite mullet synonym, by the dubs!) I’m a fan of a free and open exchange of honest information, and I’m pretty much an open book, so be warned: we’re about to journey into the darkest secret of my life.

I, Lauren E. McKinney, had a mullet.

And a wedgie, apparently.

I don’t know a lot about the specifics- I was quite young. It started out like this:

Not so bad, right? Also, my dad seems to be looking at something awesome slightly to the right of the camera.

Or maybe he was SHOOTING EYE LASERS.

…and then it got longer, so my dad took me to Supercuts one day (naively thinking he was just getting my bangs trimmed) and somehow something terrible happened and I came home with a mullet. Ever the optimist, he assured my horrified mother that my new haircut looked “rock n’ roll”.

It doesn’t end there. My parents thought I looked so awesome that I had this mullet for two whole years. I cannot believe my preschool teachers didn’t call DHS.

The full blown stage (left), as seen with my cousin Stephanie (right).

Of course, I was blissfully unaware of my mullet, and it was the 80’s, and it was Oklahoma, so I think mullets were kind of quasi-acceptable- especially for a little kid like me who was a huge Stryper fan. (To hell with the devil!) But I sure rocked that thang in Sunday School. I made it work:

"What the eff does a ho have to do to get some graham crackers up in this joint?"

I think I got rid of the mullet at age 6 or so? My life was never the same. However, for all my shame, I must admit- that mullet made me who I am. It was a part of me for two very formative years. When future scholars of pediatric hairology find these photos, I hope they smile. I hope they know I loved my life.

Mullets build character, people. MULLET YOUR CHILDREN.

Because I have just shared this embarrassing history of my coiffure (and because my birthday is almost here), I am asking you, most excellent reader, to respond by sharing a colorful description of the worst haircut of your life. Please go into excruciating detail. Thank you.

Advertisements

8 Comments

Leave a Comment
  1. jen / Mar 6 2011 9:15 pm

    Um, I DEFINITELY have a picture of us at the state fair with that exact same mullet and my HORRENDOUS boy bowl cut. MUST FIND.

  2. Robin / Mar 6 2011 9:17 pm

    i don’t have to describe mine since you so lovingly posted a picture of the perm from hell……….

  3. Rachel / Mar 6 2011 11:12 pm

    I had a lovely do around the age of 3, courtesy of my friend next door. Story goes that we were wanting to play barbershop, but in our efforts to not get caught, sat in the cabinets under the kitchen sink to commit the atrocity. When it was all said and done my hair no longer touched my ears, much less went over them, and my bangs were a mere half inch or something.
    Also, there were the perms from 3rd through 5th grades.
    And all of the times I attempted to have bangs between 3rd and 8th grades. Should have decided to grow them out much sooner than I did!

  4. Katie / Mar 7 2011 8:16 am

    So, when I was 18 I went to this guy that that my friend recommended, he “cuts hair for models”.

    $60 later, he’d basically shaved my f’ing head. It was not attractive, and now I no longer get my hair cut at salons.

    FTR, I just got a pretty bomb $15 haircut this weekend, and if I had seen you at the BA Wal-mart in monochromatic red and a mullet, I would have wanted to be your BFF.

  5. Bonnie Blumert / Mar 8 2011 8:29 am

    In the third grade, there was a cool 4th grader (who I saw when she came to pick up attendance) with a new little bob that stopped at her chin. I went to the hair-cutter lady who charged me only $9 because I was 9 years old and requested that my hair be cut to a very specific desired length. At the direction of my mother, who favors short hair, I ended up with a haircut not ONE CENTIMETER BELOW MY EARLOBES, but ABOVE THE TOPS OF MY EARS. mortified. Also, I had giant, gapped front teeth at this time in my life and newly pierced ears.

    • Lauren / Mar 18 2011 8:19 am

      I think if it’s above the tops of your ears, it’s no longer a haircut- it’s a hairhat.

  6. Bone / Mar 8 2011 11:43 am

    All of you have incidences where you were very young, which is partly due to your parents’ acceptance of whatever terrible haircut they found adorable at the time. In the 7th grade, during a time when one should never try to out-rebel her classmates, I cut my hair from mid-back normalcy to a 1/2″ pixie cut and bleached it white. Walking into 7th grade from summer break, I remember several people saying “oh.my.gawd” as they passed, but I assumed it was my sweet skater duds and supercool new hair. Looking back, I looked like a pimply lesbian with braces, and it made sense that nobody wanted to date me except through aol IM. Unfortunately, that haircut grew into a bowlcut during 8th grade and then I sorta spiked it out at the bottom into 9th grade. Soooo, when I came to private school in 9th, a few people assumed I was into girls and therefore forced to Christianize. Sad, sad years of my life.

    • Lauren / Mar 18 2011 8:18 am

      Yah know, most people save white hair for later in life- but not the Bone. I need to see a picture of this cut sometime!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: