Bad Hair Day

I have always had a serious obsession with my hair.  When I was in the first grade, I begged my mom to let me get the “big 80’s” bangs.  She said no because she didn’t want to have to deal with them every morning.  I promised her that she wouldn’t have to do anything to my hair and continued to nag and plead until she gave in.  My long, straight hair added a puffy, big band and I loved them.  I learned how to use the curling iron at age 6 and every morning, I would do my bangs (some days several times until they were just right).  This went on for years and then I eventually grew them out but my hair obsession never went away.  I changed colors from brown, to highlighted brown, to blonde (bad idea) back to highlighted brown, and now finally back to my dark, natural brown.  Regardless of the color, I have always been picky and meticulous about how my hair looks.  I can spend hours blow drying, flat ironing, making long thick waves, and making sure the look is just right.  I truly believe that a good hair day can over shadow a bad outfit or a “fat face” day.  With good hair, you’ll have a good day.

After three wonderful months staying home after the baby was born, it was time to go back to work.  Brody and I had an understanding.  If he wanted to continue to eat the nummies (formula), stay clean and dry in his diapers, live in a nice house, and chill in designer clothes all day, Mommy was going to have to work.  He knew that I would rather stay home with him all day and play, sing songs, and take long walks but Mommy had to make that money honey.  In order for me to go to work, he was going to have to cooperate in the mornings since Daddy left early and it was just the two of us.  Usually, he keeps up his end of the bargain.  He usually wakes up between 6:30-7:00 (sometimes later if he’s feeling really nice), then he’ll get on my bed, play with his toys and on his boppy, and smile and laugh while I transfer into business woman and do my make-up, hair, and slip into pencil skirts, blouses, and hot textured tights.  We’ll have a conversation, sing, smile, and sip coffee.  He’s usually pretty perfect in the morning…usually.

  He knows that morning time = mommy isn’t holding me until we go downstairs.  He is usually content with this.  For some reason, he wanted to be held this morning and nothing was stopping the screams.  I wanted to try and let him cry it out (it probably won’t last long) I think.  I was wrong.  I am throwing blush on my cheeks and mascara on my lashes and he lashes out and is throwing his body around the bed.  I stopped playing tough love and picked him up and hung him on my hip as I tried to continue getting myself together.  My right eye was a little clumpy because I had a baby on the hip as I threw the dark black goodness on my eye.  I tried to blow-dry.  I put Brody back on the bed.  He wasn’t feeling it.  After 45 minutes of this I gave up… I threw on some seriously sparkly Swarovski earings hoping this would mask my horrible hair day.  I already saw the frizz.  I tried to throw some mouse on it…didn’t help.  My newly cut side swoop bang had a funky flip, my head was half dry, half wet.  This was going to be a great day!

I walked into the babysitters house and after I got everything situated, she smiled and said, “Your hair is wet today.”  I love her but knew this was code for “Your hair looks like shit today.”  I continued to tell her about our horrible morning and how my hair was going to be a hot mess by the end of the day.  We laughed, but this was serious business in my book.  Later that afternoon I met up with one of the guys I work with.  Here were the first two things he said to me… “Wow, those earrings are sparkly” and then “What’s up with your hair today?”  He should have never opened his mouth  “Oh let me tell you what’s up with my hair today…my son is what’s up with my hair today…” I get on my soapbox and then I’m gone.  I am going off on a tangent and there is no stopping me.  He probably thought to himself, “I should have kept my mouth shut.”    After I stopped in every bathroom that day to try and slick the frizz that was growing from the side of my head back, I gave up and threw the whole thing in a pony tail.  I also made a vow to always keep bobby pins in my purse. 

This was more proof to me of how much a bad hair day can affect my mood and day.  Yes, I am a little crazy when it comes to my hair but hey, who doesn’t have their own little idiosyncrasies?  I hope Brody re-commits himself to our morning agreement because this hair can’t handle another bad day.