Well it's official...

I have turned into my mother.

No I don't walk around all Eeyoreish, with dark clouds looming, waiting for the next bad thing to happen to me.  If I become that version of my mother...please, please take me into the woods, shoot me and bury me next to our beloved dog, Bear.

No, I understand the laws of attraction.  You get back from the Universe what you put out into the Universe.  I try to put out goodness, love, and positive energy for the most part.  Yeah so occasionally, that goodness and love is complemented with a few well-intended F bombs.  I didn't say I was perfect, just not Eeyore.

Anyway, yesterday, I got my haircut.  It's the shortest it's been in a few years.  I always think I am going to enjoy long hair, but I end up hating it and pulling back into a ponytail 360 days a year.  So I went back to what I know works and personally what I think looks best on me.

My lovely, 4 year old daughter does not agree.  She did the biggest double take yesterday, I thought she was going to need a neck brace to relieve the whiplash.  She began slowly backing away from me saying, "What happened to your hair?"

Like she was waiting to hear some drawn out story, where my hair is caught in the wheels of a remote control 4 wheeler and the disaster on my head was the only way to save myself.  I think she was hoping to blame something for "doing this" to her mother.

She would not let me hold her hand or pick her up. When I asked what the problem was she responded, with a glance at my head and a look of disgust, "not with that hair."

I was pretty sure that Missy (my hairdresser) didn't attach a dead, decaying squirrel to the top of my head, but I double checked, hoping that was the cause of Sophia's complete horror...yep no squirrel.

Sadly, now I am the mom who get terrible haircuts that mortify her children.  What's next horrible wedding attire, snazzy blazers and sweet pleather purses?  Who can forget that collection of the killer Avon jewelry Mom had?
Unfortunately, I can't...I think the weight of some of those earrings gave me permanent brain damage.  Maybe that is how I can explain this haircut to Sophia...brain damage.

I know that most teenage girls react to their mother the same way.. Mom is lame and I, along with my  zit-popping, braces-wearing, big bangs teasing friends, am a freaking fashionista.

Here is my dilemma.  Sophia is 4!  I thought I had another decade or so before my every move made her die of embarrassment.

The worst part about this whole episode is that, I know, I'm right.  My haircut is cute and I look better with short hair.

So does that mean that my mom was right all of those times she dolled herself up and I wanted to die rather than be seen with her?  I think I owe her an apology.

I am sorry Eeyore.