Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow, Part I

I have this theory about hair: If you cut it, it will grow back. It's true! Unless it's your Barbie's hair that you've cut down to the little rubber scalp. That hair does not grow back. I learned this when I was four and playing Barbie Beauty Shop and ended up with a bunch of semi-bald dolls that were such a turn-off to Ken that he wouldn't go into the Barbie camper with them anymore. Of course I have some other theories about Ken but I'll save them for another day.

Back to hair. I was so excited when my mom took me to the "beauty parlor" to get a shag/gypsy cut. I was seven and I was going to be cool.

 (Pretty sure I didn't want to look like Jane Fonda when I was in the second grade, but this is the only celebrity picture I could find)

 



What happened was NOT cool.

 

I remember staring in the mirror with horror and then bursting into tears while my mom tried to assure the distraught hair dresser that I loved it and that I was sobbing with joy. I had a bowl cut with a tail in the back.

 

 

Okay. It wasn't as bad as that but it was pretty awful.

 

My mom did the best she could to fix it before school pictures the next day but as my sister can attest (i.e. the great bang incident of 1972) my mom has little talent when it come to cutting hair.

 

I guess I got over it because I've become somewhat glib about hair. I have had hair to my waist and hair that didn't touch my collar. I've worn it straight and rocked an 80s perm.

MY BIG ASS HAIR

 

I actually started going gray in high school so I've always colored my hair out of necessity. I've been brunette, blonde, and auburn.

 

Tomorrow I am going to get my hair cut and embrace my hair's natural waviness. I am just tired of using a flat iron or sticking it up in a ponytail. I don't want to go short because I am in the middle of growing it out ONE MORE TIME while it's still age appropriate. Age appropriate was of course said in my mother's voice.

 

I have no doubt that with the perfect haircut I will magically lose 10 (ahem) pounds and be mistaken for Rose Byrne (my lady crush) on a regular basis.

 

 



 







 Rose Byrne

 

Rose Byrne (I'm kind of obsessed), the longer version.

 

Keira Knightley

Kerry Washington - Getty Images

 

Jennifer Lawrence - Getty Images

 

Put a little Pledge on it...

Today was one of those days where I had to stop and think about how much I put my mother through when I was growing up. It was also one of those days that drives home the fact that despite all the times I have been angry at my mom and swore that I would never be like her, the inevitable has happened.

 I am my mother.

And that's okay. Because being a mom is TOUGH. And sometimes you just have to cry (and yell) and then hope that tomorrow will be a better day and that your kids will grow up to be decent human beings and rocket scientists and brain surgeons and that one day you will have grandchildren who love you and will never slam doors in your face or think that you are mean.

It was a Lemon Pledge day.

Yes, there are cleaning products that are better for the environment and smell like geranium lemon lavender pine verbena but for me, Lemon Pledge is a just little bit of faux lemon Heaven. It reminds me of my childhood and comforts me. I am by no means a neat freak. In fact, I'm kind of gross but I do love the instant gratification of dusting. It's soothing to polish the piano that was handed down to me by my mother or buff our rustic dining table that has glitter from long ago crafts permanently highlighting every crevice.

I really don't know how to explain it. It just makes me feel better.

 

 

See? I'm not the only one.

 

Now, I'm not saying it's as therapeutic as a glass of wine but when the shit hits the fan at 3:30 in the afternoon, it's a tad more respectable to dust than to get tanked. That can wait until 5:00 (give or take 30 minutes). And best of all, at around $4 a can, it's cheaper than a visit to the therapist.

 

I guess I'm just like the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding except I use Pledge instead of Windex and I'm not an old bald Greek man. But other than that, we're just alike!

 

Sometimes it's the small things that make me feel the best.

 

So now my glass of wine and I are off to dust. But first, I'm going to hug my two teens and call my mom and tell her I love her.