Both times that I have been With Child, I have gotten anonymous emails and comments that let me know that I’M NOT FOOLING ANYONE WHY AM I NOT ADMITTING THAT THOSE ARE EXTENSIONS YOU’RE SUCH A LIARRRRRR.
(I’ve never had extensions before. I just had really good hair when I was pregnant. I am so sad that this appears to be a pregnancy-specific situation.)
(Oh wait – I sort of had extensions. Not real ones; clip-in ones that I used to wear when I went to places like bars circa 2009, and that frequently ended up in my purse by the end of the evening, perhaps most notably on the night when Kendrick and I first kissed and he started to run his hands through my hair and I was all Ummmmm ONE SECOND PLEASE, and ran to the bathroom, whereupon I unclipped my fake hair and stuffed it into my bag.)
(If you’re wondering whether Kendrick noticed that I emerged from the bathroom with about a foot less hair, the answer is obviously no.)
Magic c/o @beautybyjennifersarkis
PS See all those mini-hairs at the top of my head in the “before”? That’s the Rogaine.
Anyway, now I have extensions! Hooray! I got them for length, not fullness – the Rogaine is working spectacularly to get my normal, non-thinning hair to come back – but to be clear, I didn’t actually get extensions because I want long, glorious hair cascading down my back. I got hair extensions because I want a massive hairball on top of my head.
Massive hairballs just feel very glamorous to me. Very Brigitte Bardot. And also very distracting, like people might notice my hair-pile and say “My, what a gorgeous hair-pile she has!” instead of noticing everything else about me, which is probably wrinkled, scaly, or otherwise disgusting
I’ve been going to see Jennifer Sarkis (for those of you in the Bay Area, you can find her info on her IG) for a couple of years now, as I’ve slowly worked to rectify The Great Hair Disaster Of 2015, and every time I see her we’re all “ohhhhh it’d be fun to try extensions,” but I never have mostly because I never have three hours to sit in a hair salon. But I decided hey – it’s the holidays, and long, glamorous hair is fun at all times, but especially when you have reasons to actually dress up and put on a pair of heels and leave the house.
So I brought my computer and my phone and various charging cords, and set up a mini office in Jennifer’s chair for the afternoon.
These extensions apparently last about six weeks (I plan to push that as long as I can), at which point they can either be removed or tightened up so they sit back along the scalp. The hair is natural, so it’s sort of like your own hair: treat it well, and it’ll be happy; treat it like crap, and it’ll fall out. (I’m planning on the former mostly because I have time to wash and dry my hair approximately never, so I assume that’ll help out with the whole heat-damage thing.)
You may never see my head sans hair pile again.
Photos by Kim Ebbets.
