My inner diva...

My recent hiatus from writing can easily be explained as follows: I have recently realized that my "very cool Fall 2006 haircut" has now become the "bane of my existence Summer 2007 hair disaster."

It all came to me, as if in a dream, when I realized that the entire Lemony Lemonade family has simultaneously fallen into a "hair rut" with all of us looking rather ragged. I have been so preoccupied that I couldn't possibly focus on anything else. Then, the most extraordinary thing happened; Mr. Lemony Lemonade CHANGED HIS HAIRSTYLE. He came out of the bathroom the other night looking smug and triumphant. Although he typically looks smug, he rarely looks triumphant unless it involves holding me down and threatening to tickle me until I puke. His smugness and his triumphantness were the result of his new parting and althougth this may sound mundane and insignificant, hear me now and believe me later, he looked different, improved, groomed in a very Ralph Lauren-in the Hamptons-yachting-prep school sort of way.

Of course, Mr. Lemony Lemonade sorting out his hair ennui was not what this trendsetter really needed. So, for the past week, I have feverishly been seeking inspiration. In fact, I have become so desperate that I even gave a passing thought to a Victoria Beckham. I put it down to sugar shock as I had just downed a handful of Smarties, which I was meant to be using as Baby Girl's potty training rewards but I figured that I deserved potty training rewards just as much as Baby Girl, particularly as I now know the joys of taking a two year old into a public washroom.

And what of Baby Girl's hair woes - she is currently growing out her fringe although she doesn't really have a clue that this is in fact what she is doing. I resolved that she wasn't going to be a "bowl cut" child and I am steadfastly refusing the obviously more practical, child-friendly haircut that involves oddly short and uneven bangs. This of course brings me to confess that only recently has Baby Girl begun to have an opinion on her appearance and let's just say that she isn't wanting in the self-confidence department as every morning she declares herself "gorgeous". The only problem is that her choices are somewhat questionnable and I have had to develop Machiavellian manipulation skills to get her to agree with more appropriate wardrobe selections. Gratefully, her hair repertoire is limted to "big ponytails" or "little ponytails" which makes my life easy although I am getting extremely tired of wrestling with her every morning in order to achieve a straight parting and even ponytails. I have to admit that I would rather that Baby Girl figure out how to work a brush, barettes and an elastic band instead of buying, gasp, whatever pair of delicious shoes I am currently coveting.

That leaves me with my hair, which is now turning grey. The fault for my greyness and general raggedness falls squarely at the feet of Baby Girl. Pre-children, my hair was shiny and sans grey and my face was as smooth as a baby's bottom. Once I had Baby Girl, my hair has turned grey, I have noticeable wrinkles - to the point that my esthetician has recommended Botox and I have dark circles under my eyes. So, not only do I have to now spend a small fortune to get a cut, I am also obliged to colour which vexes me to no end.

Typically, I look for inspiration for a new hairstyle from celebrities; like when I realized that I HAD TO HAVE A MEG RYAN HAIRCUT. That worked out so-so but the real tragedy occurred when I HAD TO HAVE A GWYNETH PALTROW circa the uber-short, gamine, pixie cut. I, unfortunately, just looked like a very butch lesbian. Then there was the inevitable Jennifer Aniston circa Friends and the sort of ubiquitous Eva Longoria diva hair. More recently, I have had the very saucy long straight hair with a thick fringe but now its sort of a very awkward long haircut with a sort of growing out fringe. If Baby Girl had her way, I would get a Dora the Explorer "do" but I just don't have the right shaped face. Clearly the situation has reached Defcon five meaning that I am days away from an impulse haircut and inevitable tragedy.

It may be shallow and pointless and there are a million more important things that I could be obsessing about but this is a matter of me drawing a line in the sand and refusing to become a frumpy, unkempt, mummy. I have given up dry clean only clothing, lie-ins on the weekend, hangovers and three inch heels - there is only so far that I am willing to go and so, as God is my witness, I will find a new, dazzling and fabulous hairstyle proving that this old gal still got game...