Tag Archives: hair washing is pure trauma

Hair Baby, Hair!

8 Dec

In my wildest dreams, I never imagined I would have a ‘hair’ baby. And by that, I mean, the kind of child who has amazing, comment-worthy hair. The little girl with long, thick, glossy tresses, the boy with the rockingest ‘fro. ‘Hair’ baby. It was just never going to be on the cards for us.

My hair, as previously discussed here is depressing in the extreme. Limp, fine, shit-house hair. ‘Ratty’ my mum used to call it. And promptly started taking me to get it permed from about the age of 10. What can I say, Betty loves big hair.

And Bren has been saddled with very thick, coarse hair. No-one ever looked at Bren’s mane and experienced hair envy. Of that, I am certain.

But herewith, our child;

Can you imagine? I mean, can you even begin to grasp how much we are enamoured of this luscious head of golden curls? This is hair to die for. Or at the very least, cut off and sell for the deposit on a house.

There’s only one problem.

We have two sons.

And that head of exceptional hair belongs to one of them.

LD looks like me (except with vastly superior hair) so yes, he gets mistaken for a girl. Even pre this beautiful mane growing in, what with his long eyelashes and, let’s face it, cute as button face (as inherited from his mother dearest), the child was pretty. But the hair doesn’t help matters. The hair is confusing particularly to the older generation and also, to bogans. Which is weird given the 1980’s bogan was all about the long hair.

I have yet to discuss it here but people who know me also know that I covet pink bits. I would like, pretty please with sugar on top if you’re listening God, a daughter. Yes, I would. If for no other reason than the glory box full of baby girls clothing I have been collecting over the years for the daughter that I was CERTAIN I was having. There are some seriously cute frocks  in there. Hey, I just thought a daughter might be nice. But I want it to be clear that I am in no way trying to morph my firstborn son into a girl.

Despite this.

And also, these.

So my dude looks like a (little) lady. I am surprised that so very few people actually advised me to cut his long, long hair. Pleasantly surprised given the horror stories I have heard other mothers tell of the well-meaning but deeply annoying advice they’ve been given by strangers and kin alike. But I do know that some people are biting their tongues because they clearly think hair of this length is inappropriate on a boy.

That grinding sound you hear is me digging my heels in. Nothing makes me more resolute than to have gender stereotypes thrown in my face. Of all the reasons to cut LD’s hair, that is the very stupidest. If he was a girl, no-one would dream of telling me to cut it. Because it’s supremely beautiful hair. The kind of hair mother’s fantasize about – for their daughters. Hell, I would like that hair myself. It’s so Hollywood, I could die. Straight from the crown and then falling into the most perfect curls at the bottom. Hollywood hair. The shit people pay big dollars for.

But if cutting LD’s hair because he has a penis is the stupidest idea, the most compelling reasons in favour of going the chop include the fact that to washing it is traumatic. And to brush it requires me to actually sit on top of my child and hold him down as I attempt to remove the dreads at the back of his head. The screaming and howling is straight out of an insane asylum. It’s very disturbing.

There’s also the issue of everything LD eats ending up in his hair. As it turns out, yoghurt is NOT a good substitute for hair product.

Then there’s this.

 

From the sublime to the ridiculous

 

 

So, the evidence has kind of been stacking up. The universe was sending us a message that we felt disinclined to hear.

This is the most recent photo of the hair.

And by recent, I mean prior to THE CHOP. With a heavy heart, I took my pretty boy along to the hairdressers. LD sat angelically while Stacey combed out god-knows-what from the front of his hair. I was so proud and also, so freaking annoyed that he drives me to physically restrain him in order to do the very same thing.

And then the cutting began.

I hovered and took photos. Hovered some more. I watched the heavenly blonde wisps raining down all over the salon floor. And when she was done I realised what Stacey had done.

She had given my son a long bob.

Which ultimately means my son and I have the same hair cut.

Bless him, he’s never been prettier….

Did I want to go shorter? Look, yes, I did. But by then, I could see that angelic LD was about to leave the building. And even though Stacey had given my kid a bob, I couldn’t inflict devil LD on her.

So the dreaded haircut turned out to be more of a big trim.

Do I think about going super boy short? I don’t, no. LD, pretty though my darling boy may be, kind of has a gigantic head. I say we play to his strengths…….

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