I got my hair cut and coloured in February. I haven’t done a thing with it since. The colour has faded from a rich brown to a weird, pale reddish-brown. My bangs are just a little too long.  It has lost its new haircut shape. My roots are growing in, showing off the dirty-dishwater hue that is my natural haircolour. I am due for an appointment. Scratch that. I am well overdue for an appointment, to that breaking point where the thought of shaving my head is more of a blissful daydream than a terrible nightmare.

This afternoon, my son came up to me, looked at me and said, “Mommy, what colour is your hair?”

“Brown,” I replied with a sigh.

“It’s beautiful, Mommy. I love your hair. You look so pretty.”

Ok, so maybe the whole head-shaving thing was a bit extreme. If my boy says he loves my hair, how can I not keep it?

The unconditional love shared between a mother and child sure has a way of keeping one grounded, especially when “one” gets down on herself over such trivial matters, doesn’t it? There are more important things in life than regular hair maintenance.

Thanks, buddy. I needed that.

Filed under: Happy Happy, Me, Out of the Mouths of Babes |