Hair

"Hair style is the final tip-off whether or not a woman really knows herself."  ~Hubert de Givenchy, Vogue, July 1985

Oh, I know myself all right.


I have come through the proving grounds of pregnancy, when the Universe conspires to make a woman fat, uncomfortable, nauseous, and hormonal all at once.  


I grew out of feeling ugly just because my friends are beautiful, or have more money for clothes than I do.


I stopped  wearing baggy t-shits to hide my shape, I stopped wearing weird clothes to distract people from the fact that I didn't fit in. 


I wore makeup.  Then I didn't.  I look about the same.


I gave up uncomfortable shoes.  That's right, Vogue, although I love reading you, I will never torture myself with your shoes.  My feet are more important to me than my look. 


Now I'm a Mommy, and that means I dress for utility, comfort, and beauty in that order.  If it would be ruined by spitup, I'm not wearing it.  I have given the world my best face of beauty, and I will do it again, someday, but not now.  Right now I have an angel sleeping on my lap, and she won't stay this way forever, so I'm not about to waste my time with eyebrow tweezers, wrinkle creams, or curling irons.


Oh yeah, and I chopped all my hair off.