I got my haircut this evening. I've been feeling frumpy--not in a fat way (though, I'm not much skinnier, but my stomach is thinner thanks to all that PT--and to my friends who said so!), but in a dowdy, slovenly, lazy way. I mean, I wore yoga pants and a mediocre sweatshirt (not even one of my nice ones) to playgroup yesterday. And I didn't look that good today!
But I got a haircut, or more of a trim. I was letting it grow out because I don't like the layers but it had gotten out of hand. And so I went and came home, to this:
DD: You aren't my mommy.
Me: Yes, I am. I just got a haircut.
DD: You're somebody else.
Me: Is that good or bad?
DS: Good.
DD: Bad.
Me: Well, I'll be Mommy again in the morning.
Because, you know, it always looks different straight from the salon. And even I thought it looked poofy and fluffy.
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