On Hair*

One of the many things I learned during my time as a receptionist at the day spa where I used to work (along with how to pretend to be my boss and attempt to have the title to her father's house changed to her name) (that really happened) is that when you get pregnant, your hair stops falling out. For some reason I stored this information deep in the recesses of my brain, and when I finally became pregnant several years later, I found myself checking the drain obsessively to see if the aesthetician who told me this was right (I actually doubted her, because she also told me that if I plucked my eyebrows for long enough, they would stop growing back, when in fact my body appears to have responded to my years of plucking with a pissy vengeance, sprouting stray hairs faster and more scraggly than ever before). Sure enough, she was-- about five months into my pregnancy, my drain was hair-free, a fact I took a weird and perverse pleasure in.

What she failed to tell me, though I should have guessed, is that once you stop being pregnant, all the hairs that had been desperately clinging on for dear life during the past few months fall out at once, leaving gross, damp, hamster-sized wads on the shower floor, much to my shame and, quite frankly, alarm. Because okay, that was all fine and good in the first few weeks post-partum, but seriously, it's been three months now. Since I have definitely already lost enough hair to create several different sassy styles for William Shatner (I like to think that he would use my hair as his "goin' out" 'do), I'm a little concerned that it will only be a matter of time before I am that scary woman with the gaping bald spot that everyone is trying desperately to avoid looking at.

Also concerning is Addie's newfound interest in using my hair as a handle-- specifically, the hair at the nape of my neck, which somehow always seems to escape even the tightest ponytail. So lately I've been toying the idea of returning to my old-school short hairdo, which I rocked with varying degrees of success throughout the course of my life. This is news that seems to be met with an overwhelming degree of disgust when mentioned to most parties, as though I were suggesting simply braiding my armpit hair and artfully draping it across my scalp. And I admit, there is a degree of risk associated with this move. It could turn out great, like this:

 Or it could go horribly wrong. Like fifth-grade bathrobe Victorian blouse giant denim purse wrong:

Any thoughts or advice, or tips on how to keep Addie from using my neck hair as a bridle, would be greatly appreciated.

*Let me just tell you that I spent about 20 minutes trying to come up with a clever title for this post, even going so far as to take the lazy man's titling scheme and Googling "hair quotes"; this pulled up about seventeen different links to Jessica Simpson's hair extensions line, at which point I just gave up. Evidently, though, there are many quotable things being said about this product. Good for you, Jessica Simpson!