In spite of everything I believe in, I have had to come to terms with the notion that I am pensively displaced. It’s not really pensively depressed or sad so it’s not exactly melancholy. But I like to say melancholy, except I say it like Megamind, pronounced Mi-lon-kah-lee. (Side note: I should do a post called my life as a cartoon character, since most of my references are from cartoons.) A few weeks ago I decided that I was going to get my hair cut short. This was to force me into having to do my hair, because years of being pregnant, nursing and changing diapers, etc. had turned me into the kind of mother who constantly threw my hair back into this pony tail turned half bun thing. I didn’t want to be this person any more. I wanted to represent myself as someone who could handle it all. A mom who also took the time to pull herself together. Clearly it doesn’t come naturally for me, I’d rather wear yoga pants around the clock and never have to put on a stitch of make-up. Which brings me to my next issue. My face. Oh my goodness, when did all of these age spots show up? Grrr. I always thought I was the kind of person that would “grow old gracefully.” And then you see yourself (or I saw myself) in some impromptu family shots and your like (I’m like) is that what I look like? For goodness sake! The next thing I know I’m headed to the Clinique counter to get that age spot remover- the one where they show that spotted egg that turns into the flawless egg. And I’m talking to the lady at the counter who is explaining to me that I have to use this forever or they will come back. To which I’m thinking forever? Using some product (that she assured me is not bleach) to change my face (or rather bring back my face thank you) goes against everything I believe in already! But apparently I’m vain, so I bought it. (However, I am happy to report that has been returned unopened, not that I would judge anyone who has done otherwise, I get it.)
In other inconsistent news I have colored my gray. I had randomly gotten some in the past without so much alarm, but after my fourth child molting (you know that thing that moms go through a few months after delivery where the body goes through crazy fluxes and has a huge loss of hair?), my new growth started coming in solid gray. It was a little ridiculous. I was getting a complete new growth of baby bangs in solid gray. It was undeniable, and for a second I considered just letting it happen. I thought if I go solid gray now, then I’ll be like Steve Martin or Cooper Anderson and never appear to age. Then my younger sister lovingly explained to me that it’s not the same and I had to agree that I wasn’t ready for that yet. So off I went to the salon, and it did make me feel better. Which brings me full circle to my point.
By the way my hair is currently in a shorter pony tail.