Saturday, January 26, 2013

Shave It For Later

I just cut S.'s hair.  There is a reason I am not a hairdresser.

I had to shave a mohawk into his head for a show he's in.  It's a slightly crooked mohawk.  S. abhors everything not straight, not symmetrical, not organized and orderly; and now his head belongs to the dark side of chaos.  I'd insert an evil laugh but, you know, it's for a show and it probably should be straight.  I did my best!  Le sigh.

I once shaved my own head by accident.  How does one shave their head by accident, you ask?  For all I know I mentioned this incident on here already but I'll regale you once more with the horror of the experience.

I had really short hair at the time.  Or rather, I'd had really short hair, and it was starting to grow out.  I wanted it back at that inch, inch-and-a-half-tops length, but I was unemployed and didn't have the money for a visit to the salon.  I looked towards the clippers under the sink for my answer.

That was such a bad idea.

I was so naive, so unaware of how clippers work.  I thought that if you used the 1.5 inch guard, your hair would be a tidy 1.5 inches in length, and presto, I'd have my cute little hair cut back.

Yeah.  No.  That's not how clipper guards work.

I learned that almost immediately, as I cut a two-inch swath into the front of my hair and gasped in shock at the near-naked scalp that appeared.

Oh.  My.  God.  What have I done?

I had to shave the rest then, you see.  Z. was still a wee pup, watching me from in her kennel outside the bathroom.  I turned to her and said, "Well, let's hope my head doesn't have any funny lumps on it."

It doesn't.

I had to text S. and tell him I hadn't had a nervous breakdown, I just didn't know how clippers worked.

And if he talked to you about his hair tonight, he'd say I still didn't.

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