All of us have secret talents which are best hidden because they can wreak havoc in your life. I can cut hair. Yes, I know I complain about hair all the time but I really can cut it so it looks like a professional haircut — just not my own hair!
I learned from my mother who used to cut hair in the neighborhood — not for money but as part of a barter system. She would cut someone’s hair and they would give her something in return or do her something for her. My old childhood neighborhood was like that. There wasn’t a hairdresser in the town. You had to go to the city about eight miles away to get a professional haircut so Mom learned how to cut hair.
As a teenager I would cut my girlfriends’ hair – sometimes it came out really great and then sometimes, especially when we were trying to get a new look (like a Twiggy cut), not so good. When we all grew up and could afford real hairdressers, I didn’t do that so much – except for men.
Men don’t care about their hair. They don’t like to take the time to get it cut. They don’t like to wait in a line and good grief – they don’t like to pay for it. That is how I started cutting men’s hair. I always limited haircuts to my boyfriend du jour. Now I just cut the beloved husband’s hair.
He can be really bad about haircuts, going an easy eight weeks between trims. Last week was one of those times when it had to be cut or I would need a lawnmower to cut it. I usually start with an electric clipper to get the bulk out and then finish with a scissor. When you use an electric clipper, there are guards that you put on for the various hair lengths. No guard will give you a buzz. The longest will give you a pretty traditional cut. I always use the longest guard.
I was having a blond moment (or maybe a senior moment – no let’s stay with blonde) and I started without the guard. Major oops! Beloved husband now had two bald spots on the back of his head. I was so angry with myself. How could I be so careless? How would I tell him?
I finished the haircut, leaving it a little longer next to the bald spots so he could do a comb over. Then I broke the news, expecting a negative reaction. His response was, “I can’t see it anyway.” He never even looked in the mirror until he took his shower several hours later. All he said was, “You did cut it a little short on the one side.”
A little short? I would have thrown a hissy fit, screamed at the top of my lungs, bought a wig (maybe a Dolly Parton one — do they come with boobs?) and never forgiven the person who did this to me. He didn’t think anyone would notice. How could they not notice?
He was right. We had several social functions with different friends in the next few days and no one said anything. I didn’t mention it. He didn’t mention it. Perhaps they think that he has a serious illness or maybe people just don’t look at the back of men’s heads.
Going back to what I said at the beginning – men don’t really care about their hair. How can that be? By the way, he only has one hair product — shampoo. I will never understand men.