I’m officially 24 weeks pregnant today. And since I’m trying to keep up with tummy photos every six weeks or so, I figured that I would combine them with before-and-after pics of my hair. Two birds, one stone, yadda yadda.
So, this is before the haircut:
There was this whole other drama yesterday afternoon about getting the crib delivered to our house, and how the delivery guy was well over an hour late, and how I almost missed my haircut appointment because of him, and how I almost yelled at him that he shouldn’t come between a crazy pregnant lady and her hairstylist because dammit, this is all I have left when the rest of my body is going to hell!
I didn’t yell at him. He was very nice and apologetic about the delay, and I managed to be pretty darn polite, given how tense the whole thing made me.
Oh, but hey, I have a crib! It’s still in a box by the front door, but at least it’s here. The website I ordered it from had made it sound like it was going to take 4-6 weeks to receive it, and I think it showed up something like ten days after I ordered it. And I was only five minutes late for my haircut. So really, no complaints.
My hairstylist is great – she’s one of those rare finds who genuinely listens to my incredibly vague description of what I want my hair to look like, and she executes it very well. Although she has, on occasion, told me that there was no way on earth that what I described would work on me, and I appreciate her honesty. The bangs, she said, definitely would work, and she thought it’d be really cute. So we decided to go for it.
She also has a three year-old daughter that was born on my due date (February 2nd), so we talked pregnancy and baby stuff the whole time, which was fun. Because, you know, I don’t get to talk about that stuff nearly often enough. Like with anyone who’ll listen to me. And even some people who only pretend to listen (hi Dave!).
As for the final results… Well, I’m still a little in shock.
I haven’t seen myself with bangs in probably a decade, so I keep doing double-takes every time I pass a mirror, because it just doesn’t feel like “me.” I think I might like it, I’m just not used to it yet.
Dave says he likes it. And my mom (who demanded that I email her a picture the minute I got home from the salon) says that I look like the pictures of herself when she was pregnant with my sister. Which I’ll take as a compliment, because she was 23 years old at the time. If having bangs means that I get to shave off the better part of a decade, I think I might keep them forever.
I suppose I should have some sort of “I’m six months pregnant and here’s what I’ve learned so far” update here, but I’m drawing a blank, so I think I’ll leave that for a future entry.