What is up with my hair, people?

Being pregnant (which I am not, praise Jesus,) has its perks. Like kind strangers automatically giving up their seat for you on the subway. Oh wait, I forgot. Like kind strangers who give up their seats for you when you stare them down and flash your belly at them repeatedly, with a look of acute distress on your face. Oh, and the fact that one day, you wake up and look in the mirror, and discover that your previously limp and lifeless hair is brimming with bounce, gloss and life. You think to yourself, “Hell, my hair looks good enough to be in one of those Pantene ads” as you toss your locks with smug abandon in your co-workers’ faces, angling for a raise.

But then comes payback time.

Post-partum, the hair mirage continues for a couple of months, long enough to make you feel halfway decent when receiving all the baby oglers in your stretch pants because you still look about five months preggers.

And then, disaster strikes. One day, you take a shower, and after diligently applying conditioner to the ends of your hair, you realize as you pull your hand away that you have a large and rather frightening looking clump of hair in your hand. Sometimes you leave said clumps of hair on the soap dish by mistake, forgetting to throw them in the rubbish bin in the bathroom when you are finished. This really turns hubby on.

You realize that it’s finally happening. The thing all the baby books warn you about.

Hair loss.

You see, what happens during pregnancy is that the hair that falls out during its “normal cycle,” revealing itself in delicate strands on your pillowcase or entwined in the bristles of your hairbrush, stays put. So you have twice as much hair as you normally have, sometimes even imparting a  “Hey, I may be almost 40 but I still look like a hot twenty-year-old” psychological boost to your day.

Then, after the babe is born, all that hair DIES one day and FALLS OUT. Leaving you peering perplexedly into the mirror each morning as you realize how white your scalp actually is. You yearn for the hair days of yore, but no amount of pre-natal vitamins will restore it to its former glory.

So you wait. And wait. And then finally…finally….it starts growing back. How do you know? From the fine set of bangs that are growing in, ever so slowly, at the top of your hairline. If this were the 80s, you’d be the envy of all, because these tiny bangs do Vidal Sassoon proud. Except I don’t think Vidal cut his clients’ bangs this short. You can’t wear your hair in a pony tail any more, because pulling your hair back off your face draws attention to how weird your forehead now appears.

But you could have bigger problems. Like a wart on the end of your nose. Or a club foot.

So you eventually make peace with the bangs. They may even grow out to be beautifully coiffed like the look Katie Holmes sported right after she married Tom Cruise. Yes, you could have bigger problems. Hell, you could be a Scientologist. Or you could look like Spock.

Count your blessings you don't look like this

But you don’t. Phew. You’re just a lowly mother of two who looks like you’re wearing a toupee under your hair.

Thank you for listening.