“I refuse to get a mom haircut. gross.”
well. My perception of the definition of “Mom hair” is evolving. And by evolving, I probably mean maturing. I hate to think that I’m not wise and all-knowing, but who am I kidding but my own children, right?
My hair is long. My bangs (or fringe, as the Brits call it) are long. Waist long.
Well that sounds beautiful, now doesn’t it. Aye, it does. Victoria’s Secret hair… vroom vroom, right?
And right it would be, if that’s how I styled my hair every day. Buuut it’s not:
and that photo isn’t true. I don’t want anyone believing I’m like a Kim K or someone like that. My point is, if I have long hair, I want it to be beautiful and luscious and long and flow-y like an angel descending the billowy clouds of Heaven.
Not dreadlock-y at the nape of my neck, and getting stuck between my back and the chair every time I sit down so that I nearly break my neck trying to yank it free. Not so heavy that my hair follicles actually cause my scalp pain and I have headaches, persistent headaches. I kid you not. My hair hurts me.
Nay, the truth about mom hair is that no matter what length it is, you can still have mom hair. My sister put it best: “Mom hair is wearing a headband with a pony tail all day long.”
Ah-ha moment befalleth me. …as I turn to look at my own ponytail, bangs held back, bobby pins sticking out willy-nilly from my head…
Not having long voluptuous hair doesn’t mean I have a mom-haircut. But not really having a style at all, or not being able to do anything with it at all is instead the mom haircut.
So… it occurred to me, as I realized I constantly look like this:
I HAVE A MOM HAIRCUT.
So I’ve been thinking about doing this:
….and now you’re all going:
so I’ll give you the tamed version of it:
n’est ce pas?
So we’ll see how it goes.