Dear postpartum micro hairs, I hate you.
I was recently trying to style my hair with a blow dryer and hot tools and everything. There at the mirror, I realized the teeny tiny hair regrowth has taken root on my scalp once again. In a moment of vanity I determined the obnoxious all-over cowlicks are my least favorite postpartum side effect. Don’t get me wrong, it was a close contest (mesh panties??), but the spiky fuzzy annoyances currently sprouting from my hairline are the pits.
I think what makes them so terrible is that the timing is so cruel. Let’s walk through the life cycle of prego hair:
- During pregnancy: You’re glowing, and your hair has never been better. All the estrogen you’re producing lengthens your hair’s growth period and gifts even thin haired girls like me shampoo commercial locks.
- Baby is here: The state of your hair moves way down the priority list. Have you showered recently? You don’t give a “follicle.”
- A few months out: All that luxurious pregnancy hair is going right down the drain. Your husband may or may not have offered to set you up an outdoor shower to prevent the clogs. Your plumbing, vacuum and hair brush are working overtime. This is all thanks to renewed androgen production and it’s normal to lose up to 10-30% of your hair!
- Several months later: You’re settled into your new normal. Personal hygiene is a priority once more. Your nursing schedule is predictable enough that you can actually wear things that aren’t from the “nursing clothes trifecta of ugliness” (tents, lumpy layers and stretched to oblivion) and might even be feeling cute. Then one day you look in the mirror and it’s as if someone took a hatchet to your hairline. You let your guard down and those pesky little hairs are here tIn a moment of vanity I determined the obnoxious all-over cowlicks are my least favorite postpartum side effect. Don’t get me wrong, it was a close contest (mesh panties??), but the spiky fuzzy annoyances currently sprouting from my hairline are the pits.o remind you that you’re not on the other side quite yet.
One of these days I just might go all 2007 Britney with the clippers and start all over from scratch. This halo of fuzz drives me bonkers. It doesn’t submit to any of my hair taming tricks! It’s as if it thinks I like walking around with permanent fly-aways. It’s awful and I’m no stranger to bad haircuts; I was the victim of a ’90s bi-level haircut, after all.
Hair grows on average six inches a year. My hair grows on the slow side, so with any luck I’ll be disguising my regrowth as swoopy bangs by the 2016 Presidential Election.
Instead of whining, I should be marveling at the miracle of a woman’s body. All these hair stages are just outward signs that internally things are still adjusting and adapting after the major work of carrying a baby. Well done, body! These tiny hairs are one final souvenir (other than that newly mobile human you birthed) and reaffirmation that pregnancy and motherhood affects every aspect of your life.
Until I come to terms with my mini-postpartum mullet I’ll be rocking the headband and a heavy rotation of baseball caps or leaning in to the disheveled bed head look.