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Tomorrow is the first day of school: 5th grade for my son, and a Parent Ed 2’s class for my daughter and me. I didn’t even realize Parent Ed started tomorrow until I saw a friend’s post on Facebook. I am clearly woefully unprepared. Getting the three of us out the door by 7:45 AM is probably going to require a miracle. I hate to waste a miracle on something so minor, but I don’t think Avery is even aware there is a 7:00 AM. Yes, I have an unusual toddler. She is watching Sesame Street at my side as I type this at 10:40 PM. Tomorrow is going to be quite an experience. I’m not sure there is enough caffeine on earth to get me through it.

My hair is still driving me crazy, but I remain on the fence about chopping it. What if I hate it? What if it leaves me feeling unfeminine? My physical self-esteem is by far my weakest area. I theoretically know where my strengths lie, appearance-wise, but at any moment doubt renders me unable to recognize them. In the past my attitude toward my hair was much more relaxed. I chopped it off shortly after Chris and I got married and never looked back. Other people were stunned, and I kept saying, “It’s just hair.” And it was. I also paid $100 for the cut, something that I obviously cannot afford to do now. Is a $100 haircut better than a $50 haircut, or a $25 haircut? In my experience, the answer is unfortunately yes. I have had good haircuts since (in the $50 range), but never great ones. I miss my original hair stylist, the one I had while I was working, before children. She was seriously amazing. I once had a random guy in a club announce, “Great haircut!” as I walked by. When does that ever happen? She was brilliant. I found her entirely by accident, too. A friend and I decided to go to a super-pricey well-known salon on a whim. It was in Beverly Hills (of course, right?) and it was supposed to be a one-time thing. I ended up getting hooked, in spite of the cost. I went to her for years and years… she did my hair for my wedding, too. I wish I could find someone that good now, at a less budget-stomping price. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d want to know the current cost of a haircut there. I can’t even afford the cost it was 10 years ago, so there you go.

It’s strange, my current level of angst about my hair. I used to (silently) mock people who worried this much about their hair. It’ll grow back, right? True, but it took me over two years to get it to this length, so it’s not like if I’m unhappy with the cut everything would be fixed in a month or two. I feel like I’ve been hiding behind my hair… it’s become a security blanket of sorts. As a 44-year-old with an almost-two-year-old daughter, maybe this is some kind of unconscious attempt to hang onto my youth? It used to be that moms were the ones with short hair, and older moms especially. Well, guess what? I became that older mom. My face doesn’t betray my age, but my hair certainly would if I didn’t dye it. I’m not necessarily in favor of radical attempts to preserve youth… no Botox for me, thanks. But if a box of haircolor can keep me from looking older, I’m all about it. Is getting a bob suddenly going to age me? I hope not, but I have concerns, reasonable or not. Oddly, in Hollywood it seems like the younger actresses are the ones taking risks with their hair. Carey Mulligan or Emma Watson are good examples. Actresses closer to my age, on the other hand, tend to have hair well past their shoulders. Maybe long hair is associated with youth but the younger actresses don’t need to be concerned about those kinds of things, because their youth isn’t slipping away?

Okay, enough obsessing for one night, yes? Sorry. Apologies in advance for similar trains of thought between now and whenever I break down and cut my hair. Or don’t. Ha.