Mom Jeans, Now Mom Hair?

Ann Cowlin, founder of Dancing Thru Pregnancy told me once during an interview that a mother never has the same body after pregnancy. In fact, she said a mother has one body before, one body during and one body after. That’s just the way it is. Embrace the body you are in, she said. This was before I became pregnant.

With her words heavy on my mind, I’ve been anticipating the awkward crawl back to fitness. It’s been no shock to me that my stomach is not flat six weeks postpartum. I am not saying I like it, but I didn’t expect the cellulite on my thighs to just melt off – though it would have been nice if it had. It looks like I’ll have to do some old-fashioned exercise and I’m OK with that. I have even come to terms with this new body and bought myself a pair of mom jeans. They are double my old size and I am comfortable with the fact that they might be my “new” size. What I am really, really, really struggling with is my hair. Ms. Cowlin never talked about that.

Like the morning my biological clock went off and I told Joe I HAVE to become pregnant, is the same way I’ve decided I NEED to cut my hair. I am mom now and I must have a mom cut to match my mom jeans. It’s about keeping the harmony in mom land. But am I really being cliché?

It’s not like I am going to go all Kate Plus 8 or anything, but I have this very strong urge to lope off all my locks as if losing a foot of my chocolate-colored mane will make me more of woman. I assure you that short hair does not make me look more womanly, but inside it does makes me feel like She-Ra.


Me (left) circa college, 2002-ish

I’ve had a pixie before (see photo) so this isn’t really that drastic, but my hair grows slow and it has taken almost five years to get it the right color and the perfect long, but not too long, length. And Joe loves it. I, on the other hand, do not. I whip it up into a ponytail or tie it up with a pen any chance I can get. I don’t hate my long hair I just hate it in my face.

Unlike the cute moms you see in magazines, on TV and very seldom in real life, my short hair does not flip just right or bounce just so. It hangs, stick straight, in its mousey-brown dullness and does, well, nothing. No matter how much I gel it or curl it or twirl it, my hair just hangs. The fantasy I have about this short due being sleek and sassy, well I know that’s not going to happen. That’s reservation number one when it comes to cutting.

Reservation number two is far more grave; what if this short cut is my new hairstyle for, well, forever?


Mom (left) and dad at their wedding send-off; May, 1976.

My mother has been sporting her mom-bob since the 1980s and the only real variation she has made in the past 34 years has been the shade of blonde. The length has dipped between her chin and shoulders through the years but all, in all, it has been the same style (see photo-study). It’s how people recognize her, how people know her. It’s nothing like the strawberry-blonde flowing shoulder-length mane she wore on her honeymoon. There’s only maybe one or two pictures of her with this illusive hair. It’s her finest look.

If I am to travel down this road, the do I get today could be how Joey IV sees me forever.

Like I’ve embraced my mom jeans, will a new haircut be the same? Can you help me decide what to do?


Mom and I; circa early 1980s.


Mom and dad; circa 1994.


Mom and I; circa 2012.