Day 518: Confessions of a former mullet
I gave Maddie her first real haircut over the weekend. I say “real” because I did attempt to trim her bangs several months ago and it was not exactly a success. I chased her around the living room for a while with a pair of scissors (okay, that sounds much worse than it actually was) before finally managing a few snips. In the end it wasn’t pretty; picture a miniature version of Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber.
This time I came prepared with banana pudding and Sesame Street. What 16-month old could resist that combination? Mine, apparently, because in between fistfuls of dessert she still managed to swat away at my hands and whip her head around spastically. But the result is actually quite cute. I call it the Suri. Except that Suri Cruise probably has her own personal stylist on call, whereas Maddie’s coif was fashioned with a pair of dull kitchen sheers.
Growing up I always had a terrible hairstyle. It was short, cut up around my ears, and sadly when I reached about 11 years old it was permed as well. Keep in mind that I also towered above all the kids in my class; I was the giant with a bad perm. I remember for my grade 6 school photos I showed up with a fresh perm and a truly god-awful mock turtleneck sweater/sweatshirt combination that my mom had picked up from Sears; I ended up being mistaken for the teacher. I blamed my mom and that terrible haircut. I assumed she kept it that way because she didn’t want to be bothered with ponytails and barrettes and ribbons and such things. But now I realize I likely suffered from the same affliction that my Maddie does: the mullet. No matter how often I brush, wash, beg or plead, the sides of her hair just refuse to grow.
I am glad to report that I outgrew it - or it outgrew me, I suppose. And now I am the mother of a mulleted child and like my mother before me, I am doing my best to work with what we’ve got. But I can promise you one thing: I will buy poor Mads a wig before I ever make her suffer the torture of an elementary school perm.
This time I came prepared with banana pudding and Sesame Street. What 16-month old could resist that combination? Mine, apparently, because in between fistfuls of dessert she still managed to swat away at my hands and whip her head around spastically. But the result is actually quite cute. I call it the Suri. Except that Suri Cruise probably has her own personal stylist on call, whereas Maddie’s coif was fashioned with a pair of dull kitchen sheers.
Growing up I always had a terrible hairstyle. It was short, cut up around my ears, and sadly when I reached about 11 years old it was permed as well. Keep in mind that I also towered above all the kids in my class; I was the giant with a bad perm. I remember for my grade 6 school photos I showed up with a fresh perm and a truly god-awful mock turtleneck sweater/sweatshirt combination that my mom had picked up from Sears; I ended up being mistaken for the teacher. I blamed my mom and that terrible haircut. I assumed she kept it that way because she didn’t want to be bothered with ponytails and barrettes and ribbons and such things. But now I realize I likely suffered from the same affliction that my Maddie does: the mullet. No matter how often I brush, wash, beg or plead, the sides of her hair just refuse to grow.
I am glad to report that I outgrew it - or it outgrew me, I suppose. And now I am the mother of a mulleted child and like my mother before me, I am doing my best to work with what we’ve got. But I can promise you one thing: I will buy poor Mads a wig before I ever make her suffer the torture of an elementary school perm.
1 Comments:
OMG, I too had the school perm and I remember my mom doing it the night before my class picture. And the best part is the top didn't perm, so I resembled a cocker spaniel lOl!!
Great Blog, keep it coming.
Mel
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