The Haircut

My hair tends to grow like a Chia Head.

Remember, from the early 90's? Those plants that you could rub the seeds on different shaped things, like a porcupine (Chia Pet) or someone's head?

Well, that's my life.

However, this summer, I read a book called "Curly Girl," by Lorraine Massey. It changed my life.

My curls are no longer frizzy, and they just...work.

So, earlier this summer, with my new-found confidence, I went short.

With my hair, I mean.

Now, a chapter in my book is devoted to cutting your own hair. Mainly because most stylists don't treat curly hair correctly, so you can just do it yourself. This way, you save money and a lot of heartache.

My dear husband just heard the "money" part, and has wanted me to let him trim my hair for a while now.

Since I was feeling especially "Chia" last week, I asked Matt to trim my hair. He gleefully agreed, and I could see the dollar signs shine in his beautiful blue eyes.

HAIR CUTTING RULE #1: It's not what you take off, it's what you leave on.

Looking at the beautiful cherub curls falling to the kitchen floor around me, I was getting nervous that my dear husband was forgetting ol' Rule #1. But being the ever-trusting wife, I just sat while he cut...and cut...and cut...

Finally, Matt stepped back with a big smile and said, "OKAY! Take a look!"

In the mirror of the first floor bathroom, I couldn't hold back the tears. It was SHORT.

Perhaps I should have both reiterated Rule #1, and redefined the difference between a "cut" and a "trim."

Matt felt awful. I felt awful.

Matt was told he no longer could trim my hair.

*****

The next day, I don't think I'd ever received as many compliments on any haircut as the one Matt gave me.

Matt started keeping count...around compliment 10 or 11, he lovingly leaned over to me and said, "I think I just may get my shears reinstated."

*sigh*

Okay. I give. I like it now, it just took a couple of days.

And yes, dear...here are your shears.