Have you ever heard that a woman's hair can be a security blanket? It always has been for me. I'm not a high maintenance hair girl - no rollers, teasing combs or hairspray required. But I grew up with very long hair, as many girls do, and have always found comfort in either length or bangs.
Not the awful sixth grade bangs we all regret, just a gentle swoop guaranteeing that I'm not venturing out with a naked forehead. It's something I've become accustomed to, whether I've pinned my bangs back or tucked them behind my ear. I appreciated them, found them comforting.
Then I had a baby. I'd always heard that your "hair falls out" post partum, but classified that as one of the awful scary stories women like to share with moms-to-be.*
(*Note: Your 60 hour, excruciating beyond belief labor story? Save it, sister. Not something to share with a woman who's due to deliver any day. Let's talk about how it's doable! Don't scare these poor girls when their bladders are already on shaky ground...)
Three months after Mac was born, I breathed a sigh of relief, convinced I'd escaped the curse that would snatch me bald-headed.
Then it started - the winter of shedding. I've always lost far too many hairs for my liking, but this time my bathroom floor went from off-white to espresso brown in days. Casually flipping my hair would result in handfuls of dark strands. Mac had them in his fists, on his clothes, in his diapers (ew). It was awful!
Thankfully, things have slowed down. I'm back to my normal (if significant) shedding pace, still a sight to see come hair-drying time. I've been left with a special 'do, though, one that's made me very very uncomfortable.
For weeks I wouldn't wear my hair in a ponytail at the gym, convinced fellow treadmill girls would see the "bald spots" at either temple. (First I thought I escaped with only one, but then I realized my flop of bangs was hiding the other.)
My security blanket bangs, the one thing separating my full, snow white face from the scrutiny of society - gone. I've now got a random chunk of hair masquerading as bangs. If you hold them up, it's the hair from the crown of my head, the longest portion of the bangs. Everything else is missing. Must've Swiffered it up...
So, friends, there you have it. If you run into me socially and see me touch my forehead in an awkward way, it's because of the baby bangs. The short-haired spots at either temple and the new peach fuzz growth coming in at my forehead. (B says, "At least it's coming back!" Apparently he thought the hair falling out thing was forever.)
The new hair seems to be coming in quickly, as evidenced above, but it's so obvious. There's no hiding these baby bangs; they're out there for all to see.
As if a new mom needs another reason to dislike every photo taken of her. How long can a girl walk around with a hand self-consciously poised at her forehead?
Motherhood is giving me humility in spades. Who has time for vanity when you're a balding twenty-something?
Has anyone else gone through this? Surely we'll laugh about this someday, don't you think?
2 hours ago