Author: Lori Ferraro

16 and Not Even Close to Pregnant

At 16 years old many important teenage milestones had been checked off the list: Drivers permit? Check. Sweet 16 co-ed birthday bash? You bet. First kiss? Well…yeah. A few years ago. But there was one important thing that had hadn’t happened yet. One big thing. No I’m not talking about getting into an R-rated movie or being invited to that kegger in the woods (this was the mid-‘80s, people). I’m talking about getting my period. If getting your period meant that you were now a woman, that meant that despite my big boobs and insanely-intense interest in boys and Mick Jagger, I somehow remained a little girl. My gang of girlfriends, along with what seemed to be the rest of the world, had morphed into adulthood – what was the matter with me? I had been to the gynecologist who said to be patient, every girl develops differently, it would come, just give it time. I started getting sympathy cramps when my best friend Susanne had them. I started wearing a maxi pad “just in …

In the ’80s, I Was Lori With the Big Hair

I was born bald as a cue ball and stayed that way until I was almost two years old. Both my mother and grandmother tell me stories of how they scotch taped bows onto my bald head for parties and pictures. But once I turned two, something happened. My hair took off, with a vengeance. A thick, wavy and wiry vengeance. I have vivid memories of tearing up at the kitchen table as my mom struggled to brush my insane mane into giant pigtails or what was perhaps the world’s biggest ponytail. As a young girl I was so envious of my blonde-haired, fair-skinned girlfriends. I admired their ability to wear braids, tortoise shell headbands and effortlessly run a comb through their soft, shiny hair. I kept a giant lavender comb in the back pocket of my Jordache jeans, but it was more for decorative purposes; there was no way I could ever run a comb through my unruly hair without major incident. But then came the 1980s, — the decade my hair was born …