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Browsing Tag: hair

They Said Not to Do It: The Quarantine Haircut

There are things I’ve done that I regret in this life. That 8 a.m. math class my freshman year in college is a big one (or, rather, the fact that I rarely showed up to it). That pixie cut (“But Cameron Diaz looks so cute in hers!”) circa 2001. Tequila. But here, in this time of pandemic, I’ve done the most clichéd regrettable thing of all: I cut Cian’s hair. When I say “cut,” I mean I took scissors to Cian’s hair the other day, trying to maintain the style he’d had before. I cut it once, then twice to fix the once, then the final, cringe-worthy time to fix the mess I’d made the first two times. My child. My beautiful sweet kid with the longish hair we both liked so much… …now has a buzz cut. He spent all of the day afterward glaring at me while pointing at his head: “I have ELF EARS!” But then the girls, thankfully, spent the rest of the evening telling him how great it was, and that he…

I Didn’t Need That Confidence Anyway

Note: If this story looks familiar, it’s because I posted a version of it today on my Facebook author page–and then realized that it’s a conversation that needs to stay in my memory for about forever. Or at least until this color fades.  I saw my hairdresser last week after a long summer of sun-bleached hair torture, and, while she was fixing said mop of chorine-soaked frizz, she unintentionally turned me “bronde” (I much prefer my normal shade of “blrown”). I was feeling a bit down (I mean, it’s just hair, but when that hair is attached to one’s head, one tends to become attached) until I walked in the door to my house. Saoirse saw me, and her face lit up. “Mom!” she said, and touched it. “I really love your hair! It looks so PRETTY.” I knew she liked it because my hair now more closely resembled hers, but I still held on to that last shred of hope that was my self-esteem. “It does?” I said. She was smiling in that kid-approved way…

Moving On

We were looking at photos of celebrity haircuts. “How about this one?” I asked Saoirse, and pointed to a photo of Julianne Hough in a tousled bob that fell to somewhere between her chin and shoulders. “Nah,” SK replied. “I like this one.” She pointed to a picture of Carey Mulligan, sporting much shorter, sleek hair tucked behind her ears. I swallowed, hard. We were in the waiting area of my hair salon, because my daughter had gotten her hair lopped off against her wishes and told me she didn’t feel beautiful. She had told me she wanted me to look just like her. So I made an appointment, told my hairdresser what was going on, and said goodbye to my ponytail. Saoirse’s expression changed entirely when she saw herself beside me in the mirror. Someone asked me this weekend if I was sad about losing the hair. If I missed it. Nope, I replied, and it was the truth. No, I don’t miss it. It’s just hair. The only thing I really miss is that I actually have to use this machine that’s…