Thursday night while Laurence was out having leaving drinks (he is now officially working freelance) I managed the miracle (or was somehow blessed with it, rather) of getting both girls to bed by 7.30pm. On my own. So, what’s a girl to do with all that free time? Cut all her hair off. Obviously.
A few people who’ve seen me since say they can’t remember I looked like before. So, here’s a point of reference:
I had short hair throughout university a few years ago (just did the maths and realised…OK, no let’s just leave it as a few years…maybe quite a few…). In fact, I shaved my head a few times. I was bald when Laurence and I started getting together but I’ve let it be long or longish since.
It just felt like the time was ripe for a change. I love short hair. I love the look, how easy it is to maintain, the fact that small hands can’t pull it. I’d been thinking about returning to short for a while but when the postpartum hair loss started, clumps on my baby’s head (mine, not hers) convinced me that it was time.
Laurence says he likes it. I think he’s happy as long as he doesn’t have to be subjected to long monologues of me stressing about my hair.
Talitha, on the other hand, is not happy about the new look at all. She didn’t notice at first but when I asked her if she saw something different about me, she freaked out. She was worried that she would have to cut her hair too.
Once we got past that, having established that her wild curls are safe, she kept saying: “Mummy, I don’t want you to cut your hair!” Me explaining that it was already done didn’t massively help.
Today she made a few references to when my hair grows back. I’m going to take that as grudging acceptance…
Anyone else felt the urge to snip snip?