It's that time again. That moment in postpartum when my scalp has an identity crisis and looks around going, "Why on earth do we have so much HAIR? We don't need hair! Get rid of it! Get rid of it!! Shed Shed SHED the HAIR!" Yup. Having a baby makes my body decide that it should look like Patrick Stewart (not a bad look, if you are a mature classically trained British male actor).
One minute I have long thick pregnancy hair, the next I am standing in the shower staring at a fistful of recently shed locks wondering if I should just shave my head now to save on clogged drains in the future.
I am normally "blessed" with an abundance of volume in the hair department, so honestly it isn't that noticeable to an outsider, but when my hair line starts receding it does something to me psychologically. I freak out. I feel like Samson (which I guess makes Thing 2 my tiny Delilah...), without all my hair I am just not as kick-ass.
With Thing 1, I chopped it all off in a vain attempt to be in control of my body again. Pregnancy had made me feel a little like I had been invaded by aliens. I had NO CONTROL. My brain loved coffee. My body said, "Nope! You HATE coffee! You are going to throw up now!" After all those changes (most of which I have already started blocking out) I was so excited to have the baby OUT of me. Time for this body to be MINE. Or not.
Why had no one told me making milk could be painful?? Like, stick a knife in your nipple painful? Or about boob stretch marks that looked like a rabid raccoon had attacked them? Nope, no one mentioned those (although they do fade, so there is some hope). And the weird moles/skin tags/hairs/etc that sprout when your body says, "TOO MANY HORMONES I am going to explode of I don't grow something RIGHT NOW!!!!" BAM! skin tag. Awesome. I was ok with the fact that I had more curves, but then I realized my RIBS had grown. WHAT?? Yup. Your ribcage can expand with prenancy and NEVER GO BACK. Why isn't that highlighted in the Mayo Clinic's Guide to Pregnancy? And then....my hair fell out.
It was like the final insult. I had even heard about this one, but that didn't prepare me for suddenly being able to see so much skin when I pulled my hair back. Hormone fueled panic plus scissors equaled pixie cut. Not my best look, but atleast the showers were shorter and the shedding less noticeable.
This time around I am trying to resist the urge to chop it all off, just to show my body that I am now above such trivial (whimper) things. Hair. Who needs it?