On Sunday I waltzed into Hair Cuttery and left forty-five minutes later… sporting my first “mom-cut”. “Mom-cut” is apparently the term applied to any drastic haircut a woman gets after she has become a mother. Much like the “breakup-cut”, the “mom-cut” is not always viewed in a favorable light by one’s friends, who may believe the decision for a post-baby haircut is undertaken only after a complete loss of sanity caused by sleep deprivation.
For me, the decision to chop off over twelve inches of hair was made for three reasons, all of which were considered after a reasonable amount of sleep:
- My hair was taking on an accidental Rapunzelesque quality. This might be fine for fairy tales, but for a thirty-two year old women it seemed a little silly.
- Miss M was using my hair as a stabilizing mechanism whenever I was holding her. I wish I could be tough and say I barely felt a thing when all eighteen pounds of my daughter were swinging from my ponytail with a baby death grip, but, truth be told, it hurt. Like a lot.
- Some thoughtful friends directed me to pictures of these kids. I support the right of a child to choose to rock a hair-free noggin, but I also think there is underlying dignity afforded a child when he or she is able to make the choice.
Miss M’s response to my cut was nonexistent, unless you count the spit bubble she blew at me upon my return. My husband’s response to my new ‘do was, “I’m having flashbacks to when you were nineteen.” I think I’ll keep him. Check out my mom-cut (complete with rainy day frizziness) below: