Crisis-y.

So … I’m feeling a little crisis-y. 

It could be the pregnancy, or the fact that I’m overrun with snot-nosed children. I think I need more adult time. Or maybe it’s my age. But my friend was telling me how she went out last night and was completely ignored by a group of 20-something guys and it made her realize how uncool and old she was. And her telling me that made me realize how old and uncool I AM. I mean, my friend is childless and goes to vegan restaurants and has really fun, spiky hair. She is totally cool.

I, on the other hand, drive a van filled with children, I never go out, and I have horrible hair thanks to the Haircut From Hell. I haven’t been able to muster the energy to write about it, because I am still SO UPSET but it was given to me by a woman who was either still hung over from the night before, or had been drinking prior to my 12:00 appointment.

When I arrived, I immediately smelled whiskey with my super sonic preggo sense of smell and I texted everyone I knew to prepare themselves because I was fairly certain homegirl was drunk. In hindsight, what I should have done was sneak out of there when she went to the back to mix up my color. But I didn’t, because I have manners. And now I also have effed up hair. 

I went to a different salon several days later and had my haircut fixed by a totally sober hairdresser who I will continue to go to until the end of time. It looks way better, but there was only so much she could do with that situation.

I just need to self-indulge for a moment and whine about the fact that when a girl is pregnant, ALL SHE HAS IS HER HAIR. It’s the one thing that doesn’t go south. So the fact that mine is now half the length that it was, and fuzzed-out because it was cut with a razor even after I explained that was a bad idea, really makes me mad.

I am ready to be my normal self again. I want to wear normal clothes and do normal things. I’d like my normal hair back again that I could put into a ponytail without weird little pieces falling out. I want to be able to at least pretend that I’m young and cool … it’s kind of hard to do that when you‘re wearing something that looks like this:

  
I am plagued with fears that this is it, this is the child that will send me over the edge, and I’ll never be cool or truly myself ever again. And so I’ve set a plan in place that includes a postpartum diet and exercise routine, growing my hair back out, and making time for myself. Hopefully, maybe, one day many months from now out of the blue I’ll realize that I’m BACK! And as cool as ever.

But not sane.

Let‘s not get carried away.  

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