This is the new low.

Because of the fact that my body temperature has been at an all time high during the pregnancy, I confined myself to the indoors with air-conditioning for the entire summer and saw maybe ten minutes of sunlight a day. Also, because I have not been able to predict how I would feel from day to day, I have foregone any beauty regimen that requires an appointment. The result is that at 34 weeks, I am a very pale and unkempt version of myself with an extra 35 pounds. So yesterday I tried to bring myself back a bit with a trip to my hairdresser. I love going to her because she is really fun to talk to and I never see her unless I get my hair cut with her. But the truth is, she always gives me the same haircut and it is never the haircut I feel that I am asking for. Usually it’s no big deal because curly hair is going to do what curly hair wants to do regardless. But this time, with every other beauty attribute in the crapper, I had a little more riding on the haircut than usual. So when I left her salon with the same haircut again, only much shorter this time because I had very tentatively suggested a change that resulted in her removing another inch of hair, I was totally devastated. And let me just say that devastated for me as a pregnant woman is like twenty times more intense than a normal devastated. Well, long painful story short, thanks to a pair of very effective scissors and a huge amount of irrational f*ck-it attitude, I can now wear my hair in two ways: a bun or halfway up in a barrette. Yes that’s right. I tried to cut my own hair. It is now an uneven choppy mess that has solidified the fact that for the next four months mirrors are my enemy and my only friends are large sizes and self-tanner.