>Sadly, I’ve always had very fine, very thin hair. My ponytails were often mocked (usually by my mother) for their slim profile (I use the rubberbands meant for bracelets to pull my hair back) and my hair never does much more than stick to my head and hang straight as straight can possibly be without a lot of intervention. The optimist in me has to note that full luxurious hair would make my already large head too big to adequately make it through doorways, but I’ve always wished to have just a little bend at the very least. The last time I tried to make my hair conform to my wishes, however, I ended up with a very expensive perm that lasted a few weeks then fell out to the very ends so it looked like I had pompoms stuck to the ends of my hair.
The good news is that pregnancy makes me love my hair–if only for a little while. It doesn’t make it curl or even give it the slightest bend, but it does feel like I have about twice as much of it. So I’ve spent the last 10 months or so caressing my own head lovingly, enjoying every damn second of it. Until the last week or two. Now, when I hands through my hair, I come away with strands of it intertwined through my fingers. I’m once again constantly pulling dozens of hairs off my shirt, out of Eames’s fingers and his mouth, brushing it off my face, and trying vainly to get that one that’s stuck to my back and tickling the back of my arm.
And I’m not the only one. Eames was born with a full head of hair. It was even curly:
And much to our general amazement, it was also bright orange. I’ll admit I was jealous of his curls, but I was also desperately hoping that–should he keep this notable hair–he’d more closely resemble Eric Stoltz than Carrot Top.
Now, however, Eames is 12 weeks old…and he has male pattern baldness:
That’s right. Where once he had gloriously orange, flaming curls, he now has blond fuzz. And until those blond locks decide to make their appearance, he looks like a 83 year old man.
I’m just hoping he gets Josh’s golden curls instead of my flat flaxen strands…