Anyway, with Mother's Day coming right up, I felt I needed to do a post in the honor of my mother. Bear with me, it will seem like it's all about me, but we'll get there.
Saturday I went for my monthly haircut/color with the same guy I have been going to for years. I don't even tell him what to do anymore other than, "Hide the gray and don't make me look like a man." And he usually does all that perfectly, except for this time. In other words, call me MISTER. Koko and STOP STARING! I know, I know...Dude. W T F?
What can I say? We were talking about his six children, and he was cutting away and when I got up to leave I looked in the mirror and was stunned. How can I describe this...let's see...this hair cut makes Glenn Close in "Albert Nobbs" look like an ethereal fairy princess. Does that sort of give you an idea? I mean this was bad people. Not since the shag I got in seventh grade(Thank you mom, great suggestion,) that sealed my fate of being the last one picked for all sports teams, other than Deanna Oglethorpe who wore red corrective shoes and had a weird bald spot, has anything this heinous taken place on my head.
So I stand in my bathroom staring at the back of my head and wondering what the hell can I do? Maybe shave off the rest and grow a beard like guys who have receding hair lines do? You know kind of beating the whole bald thing to the punch?
Feeling somewhat faint and a little hungry but unable to head into the kitchen for fear of running into M, I reached out to the three people in my life who always know how to make me feel better, my two sisters and of course my mother. I took a selfie of the back of my head and one from the front. I captioned it, "OMG! HOW BAD IS IT????" of course thinking they would say it's not bad at all, quite stylish in fact. Within seconds my support system began weighing in.
Sister 1: OMG Bruce Jenner in reverse!
Sister 2: HAAAAA OMG Which blade is that? When did you start going to a barber?
Sister 1: If you can't afford a real salon why didn't you come to us? We will start a fund for you
Then my daughter walked in. I pulled her into the bathroom and showed her. "What am I going to do?" I asked her.
"Okay," she said. "It IS a little short. In 2018 when you go for your NEXT haircut, tell him not to cut it so short." And walked away laughing.
Oh I was devasated. The kids at the office would have a field day with this, as would their dogs! I already wore shoes with special insoles and had my Lactaid stored in the work fridge. This would seal the deal as the weird old lady at work.
But then...there it was, my beacon in the night, a source of hope to pull me from this despair, a text from my mother:
Sisters are teasing you. The front looks great. Love the highlights. It's nice to have a different look!
Now THAT is what being a mother is all about. And that text gave me the strength to come out of the bathroom, head into the kitchen with my head held high and make myself a tuna sandwich. While I was eating, I realized what was so special about that text...she really BELIEVES that. She BELIEVES it when I tell her I've gained a few pounds and she says, "It's nice to have a little shape!" Because she's a mother, and when she looks at her children she doesn't see bad haircuts or a few extra pounds...she sees a person that she loves more than anyone or anything on Earth. And it's knowing that that gives us the strength to get through bad haircuts, horrific breakups, problems with our OWN children and just the occasional plain old shitty day.
And it's knowing that, that let's me forgive her for the 7th grade shag that accented my big teeth and uni-brow. Not sure what she was thinking with that one...but all is forgiven. I love you mom.
Happy Mother's Day.
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