Hit by a Pitch

Archive for the ‘good lord enough with the hair already’ tag

About that Haircut

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So, guess what?

What a guy.That first haircut thing didn’t happen last weekend.

Long story short (!) we ended up being super busy all weekend and the one day there could’ve been time for haircuts (for Soren and Ben) was spent doing other stuff around the house.

Toddler boys with long hair just kill me. It’s so cute! And rare, at least around here. Soren is the only toddler boy with long hair I ever see in real life. Every other boy his age has had like 57 haircuts already. As a tedious contrarian by nature, the more everybody does something, the more I want to do something else, and the same thing is happening with cutting my kid’s hair.

One of our weekend activities was a party where there were a bunch of kids and babies in attendance. Several of the kids referred to Soren as “she,” I assume because of the hair (he was wearing a vaguely patriotic “little firecracker” tank top and shorts — not “dressed like a girl” or anything).

I don’t know. I don’t want to turn my kid into a political statement about my hippie agenda or societal expectations about gender and have him suffer ill consequences as a result, but dammit, I love his hair. Even if I’m always running around pushing it out of his eyes (hey, if it gets much longer, it’ll go behind his ears and we won’t have to worry about that any more). Even if it gets all tangly and hard to comb after being washed, which has to happen pretty much every day because he’s going to get food in there (we share a bottle of detangler).

Just remember, kids: long hair does not equal girl.

Written by Tracy

July 7th, 2011 at 12:26 pm

First Haircuts

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my first haircut

My first haircut happened at a place called Chez Feminique (!) in Arlington Heights, Illinois on May 21, 1975. I was 4. Here is the page from my partially completed baby book commemorating the event. With the baby book is a Chez Feminique envelope containing a lot more hair. The fact that I have old hair from the 70s isn’t remarkable, but the amazing (to my dorky self) thing is that I held the hair up to Soren and his hair is the exact same color. That’s nuts!

The following might be two of the last pictures before Soren’s first haircut. I’m starting to cave, you guys. I almost caved and then retracted my caving. But now I guess I’m about to cave, for real.

hairhair

Those curls! (Although I had the same color hair, I did not have those curls.) I don’t care that family members think he looks like a girl. I don’t care that he sometimes is referred to as “she” when we’re out and about. Whatever. I don’t think he looks like a girl, wouldn’t care if he did, and who the hell still has an expectation that boys have short hair? Boys have whatever hair they want. Not that Soren is old enough to give a crap, but still.

In any event, Ben wants Soren to have a haircut and I suppose I’ve held out long enough. So there’s a good chance that, sometime this weekend, Soren will be going to Chez Benjaminique for his first haircut. (Ben cuts his own hair and he’ll cut Soren’s hair, and don’t worry, it won’t be a bowl cut.) I’ll save some of Soren’s hair and put it in his as-yet nonexistent baby book and maybe one day, a million years from now, he’ll get it out and hold it up to his kid’s head and be completely fucking blown away by how awesome it is.

Written by Tracy

June 30th, 2011 at 9:01 pm

The Moment of Bangs

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So I got bangs.Okay, feisty felines, I did it. I got bangs. This happened despite the fact that my better judgment and at least two very wise people told me not to do it. Sometimes what happens is that a girl gets a bee in her bonnet about doing something (that might be ill-advised) to her hair and once the snowball starts rolling there’s no stopping it until after it results in an avalanche that flattens the tiny, unsuspecting village below. Fortunately for me, this is the worst thing I’m going to do to my hair, which is really saying something when you consider the fact that I used to do things like (in chronological order) get perms, dump straight peroxide on my hair, get “lines” and elaborate designs cut into my hair, shave the underside of my head, dye my hair blue, dye my hair white with professional-grade products I don’t think I should’ve been allowed to buy until it actually started to turn green, and then shave it to the bone and give it a new start (just kidding on the last one, but that’s the course of action my dad has been recommending for years, right after he recommended playing “far far away” [my dad is awesome]).

I even went so far as to get the wrong bangs, the blunt ones that lay flat and make you look like an 8-year-old or a hipster. I think my bang-getting philosophy is along the lines of “go hard or go home,” so this is what I always do. I go hard and then I go home. And cry. No, I don’t really, but I did sort of pretend cry at the salon right after she started snipping. The woman who does my hair is super-awesome and has been through many years of bangs-getting, bangs-regretting, and bangslessness. My relationship with her is one of the bedrocks of my life in Denver, if you want to know the truth. If you have someone you trust with your hair, anything in life is possible. Right?

Anyway, a big part of the reason I made the leap is the fact that you guys voted for bangs here (this is true even though I voted “no” from two computers) and I promised I’d do it. I’ll have to keep this mechanism in mind the next time I have a decision to make. Should we have another kid? Vote here! (Just kidding. We’re not having another kid.) And also I realized that I look atrocious with no bangs and my hair up, which is how I wear it the vast majority of the time because I’m a lazy evening showerer, which means that if I want to do my hair in the morning it requires the straightening iron, which isn’t all that bad but most of the time I don’t really have that 15 extra minutes, or actually I do, but I’d rather spend it talking shit on the internet instead of standing in the tiny bathroom straightening my hair. (In our bathroom’s defense, it does have a stellar setup for hair straightening, because the mirror over the sink and the mirror on the medicine cabinet can be aligned such that you can perfectly see the back of your head, which actually is quite fantastic.)

I’m not sure about these bangs. I concurrently think they should be longer and sideswept, shorter, thicker, and nonexistent. Whatever I think, I better get used to bangs, because I’m going to have them for the next 57 years because that’s how long it takes to grow them out.

Written by Tracy

February 26th, 2011 at 7:35 pm

Let me bang. Or maybe not.

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Song: Let Me Bang by DJ Deeon (Warning: This song is probably offensive to most people.)
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Here is something from my old blog, written in 2007:

There are two types of women in the world.

I’m not saying that women aren’t incredibly complex, nuanced creatures, or that any particular woman fits into any neat and tidy category. Except this one.

There are women who need bangs, and women who don’t.

For whatever reason, I’ve long thought of myself as a woman who doesn’t need bangs. This dates back to my early twenties, when my haircut of choice was a bob, longer in front and shorter in back, no bangs. I’m not sure why I came to this conclusion, seeing as how I have, to put it kindly, an oval-shaped face (or not so kindly, a looooong face). Also, referring to my forehead as a fivehead is probably an understatement. It might qualify as a six-and-a-half head, but I still labored under the delusion that I am a woman who does not need bangs.

I have nothing against bangs, but I really, really hate having hair in or on my face. It’s really annoying, especially when working out, and I am not the headband-the-bangs-off-your-face type, even at the gym (I hate having anything around my head even more than I hate having anything on my face). I also have this fantasy that my quasi-wavy air-dried hair could look sort of beach-sexy disheveled when it gets a bit longer, and the thought of having good hair with almost no effort is very appealing. However, I hate wavy or curly hair with bangs.

Right now, I’m kind of in bang limbo. I’ve had bangs for a while now (I’m not sure what possessed me, but the second I got them I realized what an idiot I’d been to go without them for so long — apparently it takes me a while to learn). I’ve been growing them out, though, and now they’re sideswept bangs that are almost nonbangs, almost long enough to push behind my ear but not quite. This is the worst possible length for bangs to be — they’re always in my face and it drives me crazy. In just a few months, they should be long enough to stay out of the way. I’d be liberated from the bangs.

But then yesterday, cruel, cruel reality slapped me upside the fivehead. We were on our way home from the Nuggets game, and I was feeling bad about never taking any pictures. We also were stuck on Market Street in the most ridiculous traffic I have ever seen (a million people were out for St. Pat’s day, decked out in ill-fitting green t-shirts and sparkly Mardi-Gras-looking necklaces, being drunk and really, really annoying), so to entertain myself, I started taking pictures. The first problem with this is that Ben gets the goofiest look on his face every time he’s having his picture taken. The second problem is that in every shot, I looked like a Russian mail-order bride who had been held captive in someone’s basement for a year before escaping. If you think Tyra Banks has a fivehead, well, yeah, so do I. That thing took up the whole picture, dwarfing the rest of my face, and made me look like some kind of malnourished skeletor (I’m glad I didn’t look fat, but still, this is not appealing).

So the reality hit me right then. I am a woman who needs bangs. I will never again deny this ultimate truth. This Saturday, I will once again have bangs, real bangs, not bangs I just shove off to the side and wish they weren’t there. A while ago, I wrote about discovering my style icon, Jane Birkin. She will be my bang inspiration — I’m going all-out — thick, straight, not sideswept bangs.

I hope you all can learn from my mistakes. If your first response to this post was to think, “Ha, I don’t need bangs!” — are you sure? Really sure? I didn’t think I needed bangs — I thought they were nice, but I looked just as good without them. Not true. I bet most women look better with bangs than without, especially with hair up, because hair up, no bangs is not a look for everyone. Yes, bangs can be annoying — but I suppose I’d rather be annoyed by bangs than live the rest of my life looking like a “before” picture.
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Okay, back to present day here. I went back through my photo archives and found the post-Nuggets, mail-order-bride photos from 2007. Here’s one of them. I know it’s not a good photo and this might be the least of my worries, but it’s the kind of picture you’d see on the internet and think, shit, that woman needs some bangs. It’s even worse in the crappy Hipstamatic picture I posted the other day, which is what got me thinking about this stupid issue again in the first place.

This is a very old, bad pictureSad Bears fan

These are the kind of pictures you look at and say, oh, how sad for her that that’s going on with her hair, the poor thing. Here, have a hug and some scissors.

The problem is, as mentioned above, I hate having hair on my face. I hate it so much I’d rather look like, well, like I look. I know. It’s bad. And I like thick, blunt, Jane Birkin bangs. But I learned only recently that very thick, blunt bangs can make a long face look even longer. They also make me skew a little — I don’t know — Broncos fan who drinks a lot of terrible beer at bars like the Stumble/Float/Roll/Drift Inn (the kind of place you pass in the middle of nowhere while you’re going somewhere else and say hey, let’s just hang out at the Stumble/Float/Roll/Drift Inn instead of going to whatever super-awesomJoe Sakice place you’re going, but you never actually hang out there, ever).

The other problem is that I sometimes have unfortunate bangs. I mean, seriously, what the shit is this? And I swear, this is not me taking an unwarranted opportunity to post a picture of me with Joe Sakic, because seriously, nobody in her right mind would want to post a picture of herself looking like this, Joe Sakic or not. Then there was the time I decided to trim my bangs after having too much to drink and while watching Kansas get eliminated from the NCAA Tournament the year I picked them to win the whole thing. This was during the mysterious dark-brown-hair years, and the result was less Bettie Page, more unfortunate baby-banged moonface girl who’s not even cool enough for roller derby no matter how much she might try.

Part of the problem, too, is that I think in general, bangs look better with dark hair than with blond hair (unfortunate non-roller-derby me excepted). But there are some blond women who look awesome with bangs. Reese Witherspoon, for example. Or Sarah Burke. IWe are not high. think I do okay with not-too-long, thickish, sideswept bangs, even in dorky pictures where Ben and I both look like we just smoked a big fatty outside my cousin’s wedding.

The other problem (Good lord, how many problems could there be regarding something as inconsequential as what I do with my stupid hair?) is that I’m not always sure about the intersection of bangs and glasses, and I wear glasses 99.99% of the time these days (because I like them and because glasses are the lazy woman’s eye makeup). And then there’s the fact that you have to, like, style bangs.

So I don’t know, internet. I hate having bangs and there’s a good chance they could go horribly wrong, but I kind of think I need them. If you’ve managed to read this whole thing, which is probably the most shallow, ridiculous thing I’ve ever spewed on the internet, I want your opinion and I will absolutely do what you tell me.

 

Written by Tracy

January 27th, 2011 at 8:56 pm