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I took off my nightshirt and dropped it on the floor. Next, I removed my huge beige panties. They weren’t glamorous, but they got the job done.
I caught my reflection in the mirror—and I was shocked.
Other than my slicked back, greasy hair—I didn’t look toohorrible.
I still had a soft, saggy, mommy-tummy. I was only a few weeks postpartum. That took a while to change. For me it did, anyway.
But it wasn’t bad. I had actually snapped back a lot better than I’d thought.
And my breasts were—phenomenal. They were even bigger now. And wow—just wow.
I turned around and took a look at my behind.
Hmm.
Also, not bad.
From the back, I didn’t think anyone would be able to tell I’d just had a baby.
Huh.
“Not too shabby,” I told my reflection. Then I smiled and looked at my hair again. Yeah, I really needed to do something about that.
I pulled out a comb and started on the ends. The knots in my hair would hurt if I started anywhere else. “Ouch, shit,” I muttered, getting nowhere fast. All the comb did was drag and pull. And hurt.
I chucked the comb onto the counter and grabbed a brush instead.
That wasn’t much better. But at least it didn’t hurt as much. After I’d gotten every last knot and tangle out, I decided to give myself a trim. I pulled out the shears and cut an inch or two off. Just enough to get rid of the split ends.
After I looked my handiwork over, I let out a loud huffing sound.
I needed layers.
My hair looked like an overgrown lawn.
So, that was what did.
I cut long layers and short layers. Growing up, there had never been extra money for a good haircut. And the crap places always seemed to do more damage than good.
That was when I started teaching myself how to cut my own hair. There were plenty of videos out there. And I had some natural talent, but mostly it was born out of necessity.
Ten minutes later, the floor was covered in hair. And so was I.
The hair treatment had dripped down my shoulders, causing a lot of the hair to just stick to my body.
I resembled a Sasquatch of sorts.
It was pretty bad. Even still, I giggled out loud at the mess I’d created.
Whatever.
After I shaved my legs, I’d shower it all off.
And then I’d sweep up the floor.
I got into the tub and soaped up my legs. There were only a few inches of water in here. Just enough to shave with.
As soon as I soaped up my legs and picked up the razor—the baby started to cry.
