Waxing a Nostalgic Mile

This post can be blamed on having too much time on my hands, and discovering boxes of photos that I haven't seen in years. Bear with me, if you can, as I journey down a path of awkward adolescence, big hair, braces, proms, and ignorant bliss.


Little bohemian Piper, age 6. My Mom permed my hair, and then brushed it out because it didn't work.


I was desperate for a Cabbage Patch Kid. I eventually had three, but this one was my favorite because it was a preemie.


I asked for gymnastic lessons. Mom signed me up for Tae Kwon Do.


Ah, family Halloween parties. My Mom is on the left, and I'm the Air Force girl with a black eye. To this day, last minute homemade costumes are still the best.


8th grade. Oh those horrible permed, frozen stiff bangs. It pains me to see this, remembering that I passed this picture out to boys... because I thought my bangs were awesome.


At 16, the bigger the hair the better. I worshiped industrial size cans of Rave hair spray. That thing in my hair is a belt, why you ask? I don't know. I also made collages out of pictures from magazines, and hung Gap bags on my wall.

For my birthday I got a 1988 Dodge Daytona, and apparently cut-off jean shorts with Cole Haans and socks was a cool look back then.



These next two shots are of me and Marisa. Her Mom would take pictures of us reenacting pictures we saw in our Seventeen Magazines.



I remember wanting to have a great looking butt, like Marisa. However, sticking my butt out also stuck my tummy out, and I was mortified because I looked so 'fat.'

Junior Prom. Me and Kerali. Yes, I really did wear a gold sequenced spaghetti strap dress. Yes, I really did ask for a beehive hairdo... to compliment my big dangly earrings in a mod sort of way.


I went to Marisa's schools Christmas dance. I borrowed that dress from a Miss Oklahoma pageant contestant, and was darn proud of it. So much so that I put a big black poofy thing on top of my head.


Age 17, Christmas dance photo. I didn't think I would ever get my braces off, and I didn't really care. I wore them for five years, from age 14 to 19, because I refused to wear my headgear.

Halloween in high school.


This is the girl I wasn't allowed to hang out with, because she was a senior and I was a sophomore. I hung out with her all the time, and she took me to my first party.


Senior trip to the zoo. Those were the popular girls at my school, who I was friends with but would not hang out with outside of school.


My Senior Prom, 1994. My best girlfriends were Melissa and Kerali.


Melissa, Kerali, and me in Senior English class.


My Senior picture.


Graduation! I made a smiley face out of masking tape for my hat, so my family could find me.


After high school I moved in with my friend Jessica. Her dad was the rugby coach, and we went to a lot of parties at the field house. This was Halloween 1994. My hair wasn't so bad anymore, but the fact that I'm drinking Strohs probably negates that.



Looking back now, I realize that drunk guys in their late 20's are not good influences on 18 year old girls.


This is me on a motorcycle at Reggae Fest.

From all of that, I went to this...


I moved to Wyoming, and was happier than I had ever been in my life. I was still so young and naive.

My family didn't like that I stayed away so long, and they were also concerned because I hadn't gotten married yet... like most of my friends. I was feeling heavy pressure to 'straighten up' and 'settle down.' I knew I wasn't ready to get married, or settle down.

But at that same time, I met Mike. He was exactly what my family wanted for me, and I knew they would be happy. I was actually crazy about him too. I must have been, because I left Wyoming for him, and married him four months after we met.


Had I known what the next years would bring, I would not have married him.

But, then I wouldn't have had these precious babies...

Baby Jackson


Baby Noah


Of course there's more to the story, there always is.

Stumbling upon all these old pictures has made the last week very sweet, and cathartic in many ways. I don't think I hold on to the past, though some might disagree considering how much I talk about it. I think revisiting memories is good for my soul.