You were pushing the stroller past a glass display case when you caught a glimpse of your reflection and saw an extra from The Walking Dead staring back at you. Now that you think about it, counting off the months it’s been since you last had your hair done requires both hands and removing a sock. Get over your mom guilt about doing something for yourself, tell your partner they’re on kid duty and get thee an appointment, STAT.
Please let my stylist be good. When you finally called the salon to book an appointment, (the second time because the first time you tried to call the kids took it as their cue to start screaming) you found out the stylist who used to do your hair isn’t there anymore. You asked for someone with experience working with thick hair, but you’re still worried about walking out with a mullet.
I have no idea what I want. The logistics of getting to the salon took up so much of your brain that you didn’t give much thought to what you want to do to your hair before today. Instead of flipping through books for idea, you wasted the time waiting in reception enjoying the silence and wondering if you should be concerned with just how excited your partner seemed over you getting a new look. You apologize for your roots and ramble on a bit about brightening up the color and adding some body, but what you’re really trying to say is, “Please don’t give me a mom cut.”
Maybe I need a drastic change. As your stylist starts to talk to you about options that go way beyond the frosting cap you remember so fondly, you start to get brave. Maybe you should do that ombre thing. Or is it sombre now? Perhaps a bright color, is there an age limit on turquoise hair? Anna Paquin does it. But maybe only celebrity parents can pull that sort of thing off. Better stick to highlights.
Did getting your hair done always take this long? Your bladder is in urgent need of attention and if you’re being honest, you’re starting to miss your kids just a little bit. Breakfast was hours ago and this gum you’ve been chewing since you came in isn’t doing anything to stop your protesting stomach.
I look amazing. You see the final results in the mirror and instantly want to make out with yourself. You vow to get your hair done more often and who knows, maybe even start wearing makeup around the house. Okay, fine, tinted lip balm at least. You regret not getting a sitter for tonight as it seems a waste of a perfectly fabulous blowout. You settle for taking 36 selfies in the car before finally getting one that’s acceptable to post on Facebook.
That was fun while it lasted. You strut through the door like it’s a runway, and then stand in the middle of the living room and toss your hair for full effect. Your kids come running into your arms and express their love for your new ‘do by petting it, like a cat. You duck into the bathroom (finally!) and realize their hands were covered in something sticky, so it’s one final picture before tossing your mane up into it’s usual messy bun.