musings |

In the shower this morning my mind, as usual, started to wonder. Some days I could put the world to rights while standing alone (yes alone!) under that wonderful, warm running water. On this particular occasion, though, my thoughts turned to hair…

Today was a no-wash day. I’d have quite liked to but, as is so often the case now, there wasn’t enough time. Back in the days when I was young and childless my locks were washed every day without fail. Sometimes twice if I was going out on the town that night or had been to the gym (ha!).

In those days I only had a very vague idea of what dry shampoo was. My mum had mentioned it once. I’d certainly never used it.

Back then I also thought nothing of regularly spending a hundred quid in a hairdressing salon. Full head of foil high and low lights, cut and blow dry? Yes please. And of course I’ll blow an extra twenty quid on a fancy shampoo and styling product combo that I don’t really need! And I’d do this every 3 months or so.

Fast forward to now? My hair gets chopped once every six months at best, if I’m lucky and/or remember. Basically, once it gets long enough to become really annoying. High

And it is just a cut – a dry cut for twenty quid at a salon in town where I know I can pretty much walk in off the street at a moment’s notice, ie when the stars align, I’m getting desperate and Little Mister decides to nap or the husband can take the kids for half an hour.

Yes, my hair has definitely been a casualty of children. And incidentally, I was also one of those who missed out on the promised so-called pregnancy boost to hair – my maternal locks were more limp and greasy than thick and glossy and once the babies were here I then spent weeks molting like an overgrown household pet!

So it seems, for me at least, that motherhood isn’t great for your hair.