Answer = Get new hair.
Since I’ve been pregnant, I’ve thought of practically nothing else. Which I guess is normal, given that I’ve never grown another human before. But it can be pretty consuming: nine months is a long time to entertain just the one thought.
I hadn’t been to a hair salon for about eight months, something that hasn’t happened since I’ve been working at Glamour – I’m usually in an out at least every other month, changing either the colour or the style completely. A couple of months ago I realised my growing-out bob had entered into the mid-length neverlands and my colour had gone from blonde to accidental ombre – so I booked in to Headmasters for a cut and colour. I took a photo in of myself from about four years ago (ideal if they could make it happen) and left with highlights and new bangs.
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| New herrr girl? Yes, thank you for noticing. |
It was so nice to sit and make small talk and get my head massaged and hair done that I thought only of myself for the entire two hours. When I got back to the office I went into the loo and looked in the mirror and this happened (in my head. I don’t talk to the mirror):
‘Wow, my hair looks nice.’
*Glances down*
‘I’ve gotten a bit fat though.’
*Pause*
‘Oh yes, I’m pregnant.’
Mission accomplished. Lesson learnt: get your hair did, mums-to-be.
Thank you Olly @ Headmasters.