My wife’s bad hair day: “A Mom Haircut”
Bixie wasn’t happy with her new haircut. At all. Here’s what happened, in her words:
There are two words that no woman ever wants to hear. Two words that can cut any woman’s self-esteem to the quick. Two words that make a woman panic.
I fancy myself to be a pretty stylish person who, thanks to my cheeks, often looks younger than my 37 years. I occasionally get carded for liquor and, I’d estimate, 2 out of 5 times it’s not just a ploy from the waiter or bartender to stroke my ego and get a bigger tip. So, imagine my horror when I walked into a local salon feeling like a young-ish hip-ish girl and walked out feeling like a frumpy, old mom who “fancies” herself as being hip but really looks like she took a butter knife to her hair and then poofed it out for a ladies lunch.
I’ve always been pretty lax about my hair – I mean, it grows back, right? But, for whatever reason, this time – when I left the chair – I was riddled with anxiety and fear. Did I really just let a veritable stranger cut six inches off my hair? Did I really say “whatever you think would look best” to a person who I only know through Yelp reviews and a few fly-by-night colleague endorsements? Did I really say “Sure, I’m up for something new?” when really I wanted to keep my hair long and bangs non-existent? Did I stutter when I said “As long as it’s not a mom haircut?”
I realize this is petty and tops the list of first world problems but, for some reason, this haircut almost put me over the edge. When I walked in last night and Gus said “you still have a little hair that looks good” tears actually welled up in my eyes. Parry’s reassurance that the haircut was not, in fact, “mom-ish” was met with responses like “you have to say that” as a pit formed in my stomach.
Why was I taking this so hard? Why was I letting a haircut dictate my feelings and self-esteem? I think it has to do with the fact that, as a mom, it’s the little things that you look forward to doing for yourself that can get you through the day sometimes. The 45 minute bouts of pampering in the form of mani/pedis, a Zumba class, shopping excursions and, typically haircuts –that simply make you feel a little better and remind you that you’re really just a girl – who happens to be a mom. When one of those pampering events goes wrong, I’ll admit, I’m slightly irrational wondering why I ever bothered in the first place.
The good news is, after washing and blow drying my hair myself, I realize I was simply a victim of a Mom Styling and I was able to leave the house looking and feeling a little more like me. I’m guessing that 50% of that is attributed to the fact that my hair looks better and 50% is that I’m not as irrational as I was yesterday.
I can’t imagine I’m alone here. Anyone else have irrational fears of letting “Mom-ness” define you in the wrong ways?