The adventures of Mullet Girl

If you've read my earlier October post When I grow up... you'll know that I survived the great permed fringe debacle of the early 90's, which put me off a career in hairdressing.

Miss5, showing shades of her Mother's genetic make up, likes to cut her hair - but not in a girly-girl who wants to be a hairdresser kind of way.  Instead, she cuts her hair into a MULLET.  For those of you not Australian-ised enough to know what this is - it is the 1980's iconic style of long back (with poncey layering for hardcore devotees), and very very short front and sides.  Billy Ray Cyrus circa Achy Breaky Heart.

I'm not knocking the mullet, everything has its place - you know...in the 80's...or on bogan's hanging out in shopping centre car parks, wearing tight black jeans, faded old torn Metallica t shirts with flanelette checkered shirts over the top.  Not on a Miss5.

So the first time she styled her hair in this fashion, there was much horror, some tears (mine, not hers), and a maternal talking to explaining why my Miss3 (at the time) should leave the cutting to the professionals.  We ended the conversation as friends.

Then Miss3.5 did it again, waiting only long enough for the first disaster to grow back before re-mulletising herself.  This time I took away her beloved denim leggings (just in case it was encouraging her bogan-ness).  Our discussion was slightly more serious this time, and included threats about removing televsion privileges - just to prove how serious the issue was.  We were still friends by the end of this second discussion.

Miss4-and-a-bit and yet another mullet.  By this stage she is becoming much more adept at hairdressing, as she has completed the re-styling in the time it takes me to shower.  Which isn't long when you've got a scissor-happy Miss4 and just-walking Miss1 and Mstr1.  BIG time serious conversation.  Dora the Explorer banned from the house for a week.  TV privileges removed...but only for a few hours, because I realised that by removing my "babysitter" it meant that I had to entertain Miss4 myself.  We finish up this time as begrudging buddies.

Finally, we come to Miss-almost5.  This time it's personal.  This time she's doing it to annoy me.  She's taunting me, her actions saying "go ahead...threaten all you want...my inner Miss25 is telling me I can do what I want when I want, and I don't care about the consequences" - those being the hideous bogan/child look, and other parents appalled at my apparent home hairdressing (lack of) skills that I'm obviously subjecting my child to.

So this time I gave her denim leggings back and bought her a flanellette shirt (pink though, to add that optimistic touch of femininity).  Big yelling and much frowning preceded this, I didn't just give in.  But what can you say to a kid who is determined to look like an 80's bogan?  All scissors removed from reach (probably should've done that the first or second time), so she's back to using those blunt little plastic Playdoh scissors that don't cut anything...even Playdoh.  We part as mere acquaintances on this occasion.