The other day my hair finally got to me. It was shaggy. It was annoying. It was time for a haircut.

Now, I’m a cheapskate. I don’t like paying a lot of money when I can pay a little. I was loving my $10 haircuts from the illegal salon in the apartments down the way. But, that lady’s hub graduated and now they’re gone. Since wonderful Marla (the magic hairdresser) is far away in Waco, I decided to be cheap and go to Mastercuts.

That was a mistake.

I asked for a bob. I got a reverse mullet. The front is chin-length. From my profile, it goes about three inches at this length and suddenly shoots up to the crown of my head. It’s party up front & business in the back. Now, I may have too much business in my back, but that’s because of the Sonic Cherry Cokes, not because of my attitude. My attitude has nothing mullet-y about it. And, I want a normal haircut back.

When she finished her handiwork and I put my glasses back on (I always have to take them off for them to cut it), the lady said: “Oooh! You’re a sexy mama! Watch out, or this haircut will get you another baby!”

Now, seventh grade science class was a long time ago for me, but I’m pretty sure that they never told us that haircuts make you pregnant. This haircut certainly won’t. I don’t look like a hip-and-still-young-mom.  I look like a cheap East Texas girl who spends her nights at the Midnight Cowboy looking for her redneck flavor of the month. Sigh.

Yes, I’ll take a picture and show you. No, I won’t do it until I’ve seen another hairdresser to fix it. And, this time I won’t go the bargain route.  So, this haircut won’t be $15. It’ll be around $50. Sigh.

In other news, I am now making nursing covers for my online shop. I need your help. These covers are called Hooter Hiders. But, this name is trademarked. What other name can I use? I think knocker blocker and jug rug are hilarious, but I’m not sure they’re appropriate. (And Hooter Hider is, I guess.) Since I’ve already knocked this post out of the family-friendly range with my comment about cheap nightclub hopping hoochies with Victoria Beckham-ish haircuts, I’ll ask you to draw upon every inappropriate reference to breastfeeding you can think of and give me a good name for my clever nursing covers.

Now, I must go find a hat to cover my hair.