Ah, The Flashbacks. But There Was No Flash Dancing.

This week at youth group was vintage game night. The kids had an Atari tournament, playing Pac-Man. (Anyone having flashbacks yet?) And because we amp  up the fun factor any time that we can, the kids got extra points for dressing vintage. And by "vintage," we meant anything in a previous era. You know, 20's, 40's, 60's, even 70's. But the teens chose to include the 80's as well, because to them, it was clearly before their time.

This will make you feel older than you've felt in a long time. Since when are the 80's considered 'vintage'? And what's next? Are they going to tell you that your music should be on the oldies stations? *sigh*

So since the kids insist that I'm an old fogey who grew up in the bright, neon ages of the 80's, I chose to dress like I did back in the day. I pegged my jeans, layered brightly colored tops (which were banded at the side to take in the slack!), and donned a long gold chain paired with huge gold earrings.

(If you don't  know what pegged jeans are, you can just turn your music down and get off my lawn.)

But the real fun started when I did my hair. I was very afraid of how easily it all came back to me. The daughter was very afraid of the hair. She walked in just after I turned my head upside down to shake out the tangle of curling iron induced ringlets and spraying them with enough instant freeze hairspray to put a hole in the bathroom wall. Forget the ozone. I felt brain cells dying out. Why has there never been a study done on diminished mental capacity of overzealous hairspray users?

"Mom, it looks like a clown. You need to tame it down in the back." Oh, no, hon. It should probably be teased to achieve more volume. If this were the 80's, I'd be a loser with a lame hairdo like this.

Her eyes widened until there was very real danger of them falling out of her head.

I sprayed the sides until they stood at a 90 degree angle from my head, and teased the bangs until they achieved the maximum height allowed for their length. Becky's horror grew in proportion to the hair's volume. "Wait till Dad sees you," she said in shock. "Oh, he's seen me like this, hon. It's how I snagged him in the first place." Disbelief was palpable. I could tell that she was considering conducting that diminished mental capacity study on her own free time.

I think it's going to take a full week to get the hairspray washed out. And I think I also figured out why the hair has been thinning as of late. All those years, and all that spray. How can hair not be traumatized? I consider it a delayed reaction to the torture of the 80's. I may conduct a study in my free time on women who grew up in the 80's and now have thinning hair.



(Photo taken by one of the teens, in a darker room. Forgive the quality. Or did you just think it was blurred from your laughter?)

Here, look at the kids. Because it was really their night to shine. From left to right, they're representing the 80's, the 70's, and Darnell. And of course Micah, who thought it was Halloween. But that boy never needs an occasion to dress up. Seriously.