No shedding, a perpetual sheen, and a length I thought I would never achieve.
Next to having the babies themselves, that hair was worth every moment of morning sickness and swollen ankles.
So naturally, I thought I would keep it that way forever.
And then the gray population began to expand.
And the sheen wasn't quite as… shiny.
And the ends suddenly became bounce-less.
Post-pregnancy hair, I discovered, wasn't all that spectacular.
Still, I was determined to keep the long hair that I believed kept me feeling youthful — and away from the dreaded cliché “mom hair.”
This diligence continued long after my final days of pregnancy glory — until one recent night, when my husband and I sat down to watch a movie together. The moment the actress slid onto the screen with her short, bouncy cut, I was in love.
“I think I need that haircut,” I told my husband, keeping my eyes on the screen.
He turned his head slowly, maintaining a very neutral look. This was a man with experience in the realm of my hair.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked.
“I think so,” I affirmed.
“Whatever you want to do,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes. Classic safe husband answer.
After polling my bravest (and most honest) friends, I made the appointment. Before I knew it, I was sitting in a chair, gazing at my own reflection.
“Cut it?” my hair guru asked with raised eyebrows.
“Yep,” I responded with a smile.
“That much?” she asked.
“Are you going to hate me after this?” she deadpanned.
“Maybe,” I said with a mischievous smile.
Out came the scissors. I watched my long locks fall to the ground, and felt just a tiny bit of panic. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Deep down, I knew it was time for this cut.
When she turned me around, coiffed far beyond my own personal skill set, I gasped.
“Oh, no…” she began, wide-eyed.
“I love it!” I exclaimed.
“Thank goodness,” she said with a deep exhale.
I laughed, and ran my fingers through my short hair. It was healthy, bouncy, and made me feel brand new.
“I love it!” my husband echoed when he saw me.
I grinned, happy to have the validation of a man with no poker face. As he hugged me, I couldn't help but look at my reflection in the window. I liked this brand-new me.