I found an old photo the other night - one of me and my mom, holding my then-baby daughter. My mom is smiling and my daughter is giggling, but I couldn't really look at either one of them.
I was distracted. Distracted by ....my hair. Perhaps I was being overly critical, but it looked absolutely awful. Scarecrow-in-Wizard-of-Oz awful.I mean, it looked like maybe I accidentally cut it in my sleep. The best way I can describe it is to say that it was short and shaggy and square. With bangs.
This is a little surprising, because I'm known to be somewhat vain about my hair. But having a baby around the house was far more tiring than I ever imagined - I think I stopped grooming for a year or so; maybe that explains it.
But it fills me with trepidation now, because I'm contemplating getting my hair cut short again. I just feel like it's time for something new, and until I saw this picture, I was very gung ho for a change.
I asked my kids what they thought about me going short. My daughter was diplomatic. "It's your hair, mom," she said. "Do whatever you want to do."
My little boy wasn't so easy. "Will it be blonde?" he asked me, referring to a past hair experiment of mine.
I doubt it, I told him.
"Hmmph," he said. "I like blonde." Typical.
Oh well. Maybe I'll just bring along a photo from the Wizard of Oz as a cautionary maneuver and hope for the best.