Thursday, October 14, 2010


I ask very little of my hair, mostly just that it stay on my head. Traditionally it's done a fine job at that task, although post-pregnancy my hair has been taking leave of my head in handfuls. It doesn't help that I only comb my hair about once a week because (a) it actually looks worse when I do, if that's even possible, and (2) combing hair is a Communist plot designed to get us to waste time. This is not widely known, but if you think about it, billions of people comb their hair in China every day, and as a result they have to live under a totalitarian regime.

See all this hair? 
I like to think of my personal style as "natural," meaning "low-maintenance," which of course is code for "slob." It's a nice bonus that I have no gray hair to speak of, although I do think gray can look nice. On other people. For example, on my sister, who is two years younger but has more gray hair than I do. I credit my lack of gray to clean living, high moral principles, and upstanding character, especially when I'm "admiring" the silver at my sister's temples.

Since Baby W was born, all that extra hair I grew during pregnancy has been falling out. As a result, after I take a shower the tub looks like I've drowned several small otters in there. My hair has never made up its mind -- it's both straight and curly, coarse and baby-fine, all while managing to be the most boring color imaginable (though not gray!), a color that can only be described as "mouse." It's like a bad-hair conference, held right on top of my head. (The plenary session this year: "How to Look Your Scraggliest." Breakout sessions on "Achieving Maximum Split Ends," "Summer Time: Time to Frizz," and "Sticking Straight Up.")

So I've decided to make a change and go short. This will have the side benefit of letting my sister grow her hair out, since we have an unwritten agreement that we will always have opposite hair lengths -- if mine is long then her is short and vice versa. This helps stupid people tell us apart.

I got closer than I would like to the creep-factor line by stopping a woman I didn't know and asking if I could take a picture of her hair, because I liked her short cut. That felt weird, but can you imagine if you were thinking about getting a new nose and saw one on a woman you liked? Or breasts? And shoot, I really shouldn't have said the word "breast," since now this post could show up in R-rated searches.  I looked at my stats recently to see what searches led people to Midwest Potato, and seven out of the top ten search terms involved the word "penis," likely due to the fact that I think it's very strange my pediatrician comments on Baby W's at every visit. I was a little disconcerted by people finding my blog by searching for those words, so to address that concern from now on I will be referring to Baby W's vagina instead.

I'll post a picture of the new short hairdo when it arrives. I don't know exactly how I'm going to get it cut, but I'll make it clear to the hair stylist that even if it's short, I'm still not going to comb it. I have no proof, but I believe those Chilean miners combed their hair. And look at what happened to them! I'm not going to risk it.

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