A couple of years back, I decided I wanted in on the trendy mom
club. My kids were beyond the toddler and infant stages. There was
no excuse for not taking more of an interest in my physical
appearance and perhaps even applying lipstick now and then.
In a fit of inspiration, I opted to get the cool new
haircut all the trendy moms were sporting. You know the one. The
sides are a little longer. The back is a little shorter. I had
already grown out my mall bangs, so I figured there was no better
time than the present.
I marched right into the $8 haircut place and excitedly
ordered up my new style.
That was a mistake.
It was as if the stylist took everything I said and
reversed it. She chopped my sides short. She left the back long.
She re-instated the mall bangs.
I walked out with a full-blown mullet.
By the time I got home, I was in tears. My husband tried
to make light of the situation by suggesting I take up ice hockey.
I won't get into my reaction. After all, this is a family
Two years later, I am now on the eve of my 40th birthday.
I once crafted a commendable list of all the things I wanted to
accomplish by this stage in life. I was supposed to be fluent in
French, have the abs of Gwen Stefani, and be able to express my
anger without dropping a single curse word.
Sadly, those goals died with my third C-section, when I
believe the doctor removed all of my abdominal muscles along with
My goal now?
I just want this blasted mullet to grow out.
I am very close. The sides are only 2 inches shorter than
the back and my bangs finally have reached my eyebrows.
I do feel a little ashamed caring too much about a bad
haircut. After all, I have watched friends and family lose their
hair to cancer and disease. I know there is far more to life than
worrying about looking like a member of the Chicago
So when I review that old list, I am happy for the reality
of what actually has been achieved. My children are kind and
respectful. My friends make me laugh and bring milk when I run out.
And most importantly, I have a marriage that not only can withstand
a bad mullet, but quite a bit more.
I am going to embrace my 40s. I do not seek to conquer the
world or learn to play bridge. There is only one goal on my list
for the next decade.
No more $8 haircuts.
Marianne is mother of three sons and the wife of a southside Irish fireman. She has learned that sometimes you're just too dumb to know what makes you happy. She blogs regularly at We Band of Mothers (webandofmothers.com) and curses with even greater frequency. Her material is written for the imperfect, the imprudent, and the impatient mothers who know that all this stuff is really very funny if you just give it a minute.
See more of Marianne's stories here.
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