Over the winter, I cut my hair short. Well I didn't -- but my girl did. My husband and I have this deal about my hair length. Actually he has a deal that he thinks I care about — but I don't. I understand it. The fear that is. There is a certain mom haircut that looks a little mannish. It says I've given up and now I'm buying my jeans at Costco.
But that's not the look I have. At least I didn't think so.
I'm always rushing around. Rushing and rushing. Typical mom. So I started blow drying my hair in a way that went a lot faster. It involved not using the brush and instead just pushing my hair back with my fingers. I thought I was looking pretty good. That is until I took a look in my rear view mirror and thought, "I look (a little) like Billie Jean King."
So I asked my husband, "Hey, do I like like Billie Jean King?"
Me: "I'll take that as a yes?"
Him: "It's not that you look like Billie Jean King. But if you cut your hair any shorter, you're going to be getting dangerously close to the mom haircut."
Me: "I do not have the mom haircut."
The next day, I started using the brush again. Besides, I don't look like Billie Jean King. I look like Yolanda from the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. You know the one. She's always saying "dahling" with some vaguely Prussian empire accent. Here's Yolanda.
NB: I met Billie Jean King and actually wrote some interview questions for Mary Carillo when she interviewed Billie Jean King at one of the USTA's annual meetings in Palm Springs. Yeah that's right. I did. BJK was as nice as can be, so it would be totally fine if I had her haircut.
Also my husband designed the plaque they gave Billie Jean King when the USTA dedicated the stadium to her. But he's probably forgotten about that. I didn't. It was a good day.