When I was 29, my daughter was almost 2 and I was finally losing the poundage I had gained AFTER the pregnancy due to the lack of sleep and abundance of corn dogs that somehow always ended up in my mouth. I had a conversation with myself (AKA: a normal day) about what my reward would be to me now that I had lost X amount of pounds
Food was obviously out of the question, because once I break in to a bag of Munchos, you best believe I'd dive head first into that bitch and in 10 minutes be licking its insidey parts like a gentle lover. Clothes - meh, no fun. (Yes. I am that one rare straightish butch who doesn't like to shop.) or..ooh! A HAIRCUT! Yes! Mama gonna get her hair did!
A haircut it was! My hair hadn't seen a pair of scissors since I opened my pair of scissors and unveiled the baby from the lady curtains. (oh the visuals I give you people! You're welcome).
My hair was all the way down to my waist. I looked like a midget who makes her living as a Crystal Gale impersonator at the local bingo hall. But I didn't want to get just ANY haircut. I wanted something drastic. I wanted something that wasn't in the way, short, fun but - oh Dear Sweet Baby Jesus, don't let it turn into some hideous animal like what's on top of that chick's head from Jon and Kate Plus 8. I felt like any 'hip' style that a stylist gave me (A STYLIST!? look at me talking like I'm JLow (HA!) When I say stylist just assume I mean Supercuts) would immediately take a hard south towards mommy hair hell once my travel sized blow dryer and two-in-one pack of hairbrushes got a hold of it.
So I avoided a mommy hair cut the only way a creative albeit lazy person knew how:
I got a faux hawk.
For almost two years, I was walking around looking like I had gotten into a fight with a weed whacker that ended in a tie. My faux hawk was a dream, easy to manage, easy to style and out of the way. Plus, I figured it was something I couldn't pull off once I had hit my 30s. When I did hit 30, I let it grow back out and now it's just a distant and sweet memory. It was done. We had good times but after 30, I had filed that experience under "Budget K.D. Lang Years" and never looked back.
Or so I thought.
In the past year, I've been revisiting that file, looking at my soft focus memories of my lovely faux hawk and reminiscing on the wonderful way the breeze kissed my neck every time I walked outside or how delightfully fuzzy 80 percent of my head was. I was LONGING (GB:2 subject. cough cough) for that feeling of hair freedom again. But then I also remembered my husband hating it and at certain angles, if the light was just right, I looked like my brother. And really, my cheekbones weren't high enough for that cut and I'm not nearly gay enough to pull that look off ever again.
I'm 35 now, I want to get a new hairstyle but the old 'mommy haircut' fear remains. I want a haircut that has a lot of the faux hawk's features as far as how convenient it was, but I want to keep my hair somewhat long so my husband doesn't feel like he married a Craigslist twink on female hormones.
It's like finding a boyfriend who has as big of a skin snake as your ex-boyfriend did without any of his clingy tendencies or crunchy socks under the bed.
And then last night, as I was watching Project Runway and marveling at their magic (because seriously a man's three piece suit completed in one day while here I am using Style Snaps to hem all of my normal people sized pants?? MAGIC!) I received a visual gift from God in the form of this chick's hair.
The boyfriend with a big skin snake, who respects my space and comes in his hand instead of a sock had responded to my ad! As in, THIS was the long style I was looking for with all the convenience of faux hawk hair!
Shaved sides. So simple and yet so cool. I can rock a long version faux hawk but I can also leave it down and have flowing lady locks that my husband and my non-existent cheekbones love so much.
Please note that this haircut is happening soon, but not right away as I'm working on the X amount of poundage that came back with a vengeance with baby number two. Vengeance, as in 'Is that a hippo vagina or is that actually my ass in the mirror?!?'
I'm slowly but surely winning the battle. See you soon faux hawk 3.0!