I got my last pre-baby haircut last night. I asked my stylist to cut it a bit shorter than usual, because I won't be footloose and fancy free in 2 months time.
My bad eyesight has always prevented me from seeing what a hairstylist is doing as he/she snips away. When I put my glasses back on last night, I was a surprised by the new style on my head. There is no doubt about it - I have Mom hair.
In that instant, I had a moment. I looked at my Mom hair. I looked at my stylist, a young thing whose spikey Crayola red hair rarely caught my attention in the past. I looked back at my Mom hair.
It's official. I'm now a 33-year old mother who gets her hair cut by a 22-year old club hopper. A very nice, very young woman who said just yesterday that she "feels so old now that she's staring down 25". With this realization, I counted her 14 (visible) piercings and wondered why I hadn't noticed them in the past.
In other news, I felt very smug this morning when my lower back pain eased. Perhaps it was the backrub from PapaBear last night. Perhaps it was a good night's sleep. Perhaps I'm just a fabulous specimen of breeding biomechanics.
A few minutes ago, I stood from my desk and felt a "thud". Something literally dropped in my midsection and now it feels like I have a bowling ball in my pelvis. I'm guessing that my evaporating back pain was more a function of the baby migrating south and less about my dedication to yoga.
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