Hair-dresser Madness

Posted on Mon 09/15/08 in Fatherhood

So, last week was that time of the quarter again -- haircut day. It's not that I don't like haircuts, I just don't like taking the time to get one. You see, in high school I played football and shaved my head (no hair-dresser required). Then, in college I let my hair grow for two years (again, no hair-dresser required). But, on occasion, Beth tells me it's time for a cut.

The whole family sat down at the place where I get my hair cut. There are three people working. They've all cut my hair before and turned out fine results. But, one of them, Shelby, is way too insane for my taste (at least when it comes to hair-dressers). My plan was that she would finish cutting first, so I could force her to cut Ethan's hair and I could slide in with someone else.

She finished her customer... and walked over to us. YES!!!! My plan was working!!! I told her that Ethan was going first, and that I would wait. But, having not informed Beth of my plan, she insisted that he be able to sit on my lap. Arg!!! Failure!!!!

Beth tells her how to cut Ethan's hair. I didn't hear the conversation, but I KNOW she didn't say, "Use the #3 clippers and butcher his beautiful, curly hair; Oh and don't forget to leave at least one bald spot please." Well, she did. It wasn't bad, but when she asked how we liked it, I said, "Like I said when you started with the #3, it's too short."

Now it's my turn and Shelby is going on and on about she wants to do this exactly how I want it; she wants me to love my haircut, blah blah blah. I explained that I just want a trim and that I want my wife to like it.... so please direct any questions to her.

She blabbed on an on and on and on... and drool actually gravitated out of my bottom-lip saliva reservoir. This was all part of her plan. She was putting me into a trance. She spun me 180 degrees so she could fever over the back of my head. I was becoming more lethargic and feeling my brain cells clipping away with each passing minute. With minimal attention, I focused on what looked like beard trimmers. They came into my view from the right, quickly, like an F-22.

"Now, don't be afraid of this little guy," Shelby suddenly squelched synchronously.

I thought, Why would I be afraid of... ZZZZZZZZZZZIPP, ZZZZZZZZZZIPP... What the hell just happened?!?!?! Did she just shave my eyebrows? Yes, she did. Did Beth tell her to do that?

The answer: No. She did it on her own accord. Brilliant.

When I got to the car and asked Beth to explain what had just happened, she exploded into a fit of laughter I'd not seen before. Although, while watching, she thought it was odd; she figured I had asked Shelby to shave off most of my eyebrows.

Wow! Thankfully, Beth's best friend just moved here and will be cutting the hair on my head from now on.