Archive for husband

Married Hair

Posted in Beauty Obsessions, Grocery Store Glamour, Motherhood, Uncategorized, What's Corinna Wearing?, Yummy Mummies with tags , , , , , , on October 21, 2012 by Corinna Allen Cook

Jessica Simpson sporting “married hair”.
(Showing my own married hair this early in the conversation was just too painful).

Since when do I have “Married Hair”?

Click here to see us chat about Married Hair on The Morning Blend.

This alarming realization about my hair came to me recently, on a rare evening out with my husband.

In celebration, I’d taken some time in getting ready — showering “all the way”, (ie washing my hair), and taking the time to blow it out with a round brush.

To the casual observer, this may not seem like a big deal.

But, considering I did it all under the supervision of my six month old daughter, I think it rates up there with juggling plates. In the circus. Complete with organ music.

I digress.

The point is, I was looking my relative best, when a woman walked in and I immediately thought, “Oh, she’s clearly on a date”.

Writing that now, it sounds snarky. And I guess it did at the time, too, because I immediately asked myself, “what made me think that?”

And I realized, it was her hair.

Long and blond, it curled and glinted it had clearly taken hours to achieve and now basically ¬†screamed, “Look at me!”.

And mine didn’t.

No longer called upon to style it everyday, I’d let my layers grow out and was now obliged to wear some kind of clip every day to pull it back.

I HAVE MARRIED HAIR.

Me and my six month old daughter, (notice the alligator clip on my lapel).

To help better understand my alarm, allow me to provide an example of said hair, in extremis.

It was several years ago, at a holiday party and one of the organizers showed up looking like, well, Hell.

Tall, and blond, she was my age, but had married young and was now one of city’s most active philanthropists.

She was a phenomenal host, and in huge demand for her fund-raising skills.

But on this particular night she looked like she’d gotten dressed in the dark. With out benefit of electricity. Or comb or mirror.

Her normallycoiffed blond bob was pulled back on either side by a small alligator clip. The kind she might normally use to hold while washing her face.

Shocked, I said nothing at the time. But the following day I told a friend what I’d seen.

Her first question was whether the woman in question was married or not.

When I told her, “Yes, as a matter of fact, she IS married,” my friend’s answer was, “Well there you go, then.”

There you, go, indeed.

Both of us thoroughly single at the time, we said nothing more.

Smug married woman running errands in sunglasses and a pony tail

Apparently in addition to the privileges of knowing who the father of your children would be AND  having automatic plans for all national holidays, married women were also afforded the right to forgo showering before leaving the house.

Because, as a rule, they weren’t concerned about calling attention to themselves. Whereas single women are obliged to follow the example of a taxi cab,wearing a light that says, “available”, married women aren’t.

That’s when I realized I’d seen other examples of “married hair”. Tooling around town in their SUVs at 11 am on weekday wearing ponytails and sunglasses.

Yes! That made sense! They’d left the house with out showering! And this was their accepted alternative.

To my single girl mind the look boasted: “Yeah, I look like I just rolled out of bed, because, guess what? I did! Jealous?”

Don’t get me wrong, I was single and proud, defiantly self-reliant and all that, but yes, faced with that kind of security, I was a little envious.

Fast forward five years and here I was, ensconced in that fleecy layer of love and security that I’d so coveted, and rather than feel smug I was feeling just the opposite.

The irony.

But getting up and doing full hair and make up before running errands is, in my opinion, the equivalent wearing a fur coat to the grocery store.

Some of the hair gadgets that I tried.

Who are you trying to impress?

Clearly I needed to find a happy medium.

So I did some research.

After scouring the reviews on Amazon, I took to the grocery store and bought some of the highest rated hair gadgets and went to work.

Again, with my infant daughter supervising from the sink, I tried them all.

And while none totally failed, one has emerged as the clear winner.

It’s called the “Simple Styles Modern Updo Pin” and it’s made by Goody.

Simiple Styles Modern Updo Pin

Deceptively simple looking, it does take some practice. But the results are worth it

This example shows a cascade at the top, but with longer hair, the look is closer to a french twist. But unlike the ones we wore to prom, this one goes up in seconds and stays in place for hours.

My up do from above

My up do from behind

I even wore it to bed last night!

The best part is that, unlike a ponytail, it doesn’t leave a kink mark when you take it out, and it lays flat against your head, so you can lean back in relative comfort.

All in all it’s married hair that a single girl might actually wear out of the house.

Hallelujah!

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Crying is a luxury

Posted in Motherhood, Uncategorized, Yummy Mummies with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 21, 2012 by Corinna Allen Cook

I started crying this weekend while sorting through baby clothes that my daughter has recently outgrown.

She’s just about to turn six months old, so all the sweet little things that I bought before she was born are now too small. So I need to get rid of them to make room for new things. But I loved the old things and chose them before I actually had a baby daughter, and the thought that they are now too small makes me sad. Now I’m crying again just thinking about it.

But before you feel too sorry for me, I’d be remiss if I didn’t put the whole crying jag in context:

My gorgeous, healthy, growing daughter was sitting in my lap. We were in her beautifully decorated bedroom, in our lovely home, with a wonderful supportive husband on his way home.

So I have NOTHING TO CRY ABOUT! I am very lucky and I know that, and I am very grateful.

So why am I crying?

My husband says: focus on moving forward, on all the good things to come.

Yes, I do look forward to her first words, first steps, to dancing with her one day at her wedding…

Oops, there I go again. Blubber blubber blubber. I’m going to have to put a box of Kleenex on my desk!

So clearly I’m planning to cry at my desk again.

That makes me think of an article I read once about grief and the process of grieving. The author had lost her father, and was frustrated that her grief spilled out at inappropriate times. Like while writing a check at the grocery store. Her advice was to “schedule” your time to grieve. Given that your body would grieve, and that it would most likely show that grief, she advised setting aside a quiet time each day to let it out.

My mother agrees. She says: “Go ahead and cry. Holding it in will only give you wrinkles!”

Again, I have no reason to cry. I am so fortunate and blessed. I am not grieving the loss of a loved one. I’m crying over pink ruffly things. But it’s still grief. And lucky me, I am in a position to let it out.

Which brings me to my ultimate conclusion: crying is a luxury. And right now it’s a luxury that I am in a position to enjoy.

How many times in my life did I tell my self to “suck it up”, staying stoic through athletic injuries, career frustrations and emotional heartbreak.

But no more! I am now safe and secure and loved. And so so so lucky. So here I go again, crying like the baby that I am so grateful to finally have.

It’s a luxury that I am finally, at long last, in a position to enjoy. And I’m going to, dammit.

Pass the Kleenex.