When I was in seventh grade I was boy crazy, NKOTB and The Mickey Mouse Club crazy, and rocked a really crazy half grown-out bad-idea perm.
(I mean, who doesn’t take photos next to giant rotary phones these days?)
I don’t really remember how I spent my spare time, but I’m sure it included wearing a Debbie Gibson hat and clothing from UNITS. And experimenting with blue eye shadow.
My seventh grader, though, she is like, “Hey! I was bored by the regular old cup trick—sorry Anna Kendrick—so I decided to take it up a notch and turn it into a medley. It’s kind of an experiment, but would you mind taping me doing it?”
And then BAM, it’s awesome. My 12-year-old self probably would have love-hated Emily.
One thing is for sure.
I will never force my daughters to get permed.
And it will never, ever be quiet in my house.