Tag Archives: Hair

Practice Does Not Always Make Perfect.

When my boys were little I used to always cut their hair.  We live in the south, they are boys, buzz, buzz, save 1o bucks.  No big deal.

Thing 1 was about 7 or 8 when he sat down in the chair in my kitchen, towel over his shoulders, ready for a haircut.  I had the clippers in one hand and, unfortunately, the phone in the other.  I made one pass over the center of his head and quietly hung up the phone.

A lot like this, but with less happy.

A lot like this, but with less happy.

That was the last time I cut anyone’s hair until my daughter was about 3.  She had never had a haircut.  Her hair was long and golden and so, so soft.  So long that it was getting in the toilet when she went to the bathroom.  So my husband and I decided to cut the wispy baby hair off, just the bottom 4 inches or so.  We talked about it, and for some reason, I have no idea why, decided that I could do it.

Even I can tell that this is not straight.

Even I can tell that this is not straight.

It makes me cringe just to look at the picture.  How in the hell?  Anyway, obviously after we got done freaking out, we took her and got it fixed.   It was a little shorter than we wanted, but it was reasonably straight.

So after that debacle, I had no intention of ever cutting anybody’s hair EVER again.

But my husband is a pain in my ass.  He cuts his own hair, and then badgers me until I trim the back of his neck and around his ears.  Every time I put it off as long as possible.  Every time I tell him I’m going to mess it up, and inevitably, I do.

Friday night I was working and he comes in and sets up a chair in my office.  I knew what was about to happen.  After he gets done and there’s a pile of hair in the floor he asks me if I’m ready.

I keep typing.

He starts playing a tune with the clippers.  Bzzz.Bzz.Bzz.Bz.Bz.Bzzzzzz.Bz.Bz.

Me: *sigh*  OKAY!

So I go over and grab the clippers and as usual, I have no idea what I’m doing and I start to freak out.

Me:  So…I can’t remember…how high up do I go?

Husband:  Okay.  You got this.  Find where you would make fun of me if I cut it up that high and where it still looks messy, and cut right in the middle of that. (Seriously?  Those are fucking terrible instructions.)

Me:  Hmm.  Okay. Buzzzzzzzzzz.


Me:  Ahem.  I think I went too high.  It’s kind of…I think I went too high.

Husband:  You made me look like a dork on purpose, didn’t you?

Me:  No I didn’t!  I have told you and told you that I am not good at this!  I don’t know why you keep making me do it!

Husband:  Because I expect anybody, if they do something over and over again, to get better at it each time, not worse!

Trying to trim around his ears, I may have been a little rough.  I was upset, and also laughing.

Husband:  Is there something wrong with my ears?

Me:  No.  Not with your ears.

Husband:  Just what’s between them? (He knows me really well.)

Me:  Exactly.

Remember what I said about strengths?

source: freakingnews.com

source: freakingnews.com

Yeah. Well, it turns out, my strength (if I even have one, which at this point is questionable) is not hair. So just go ahead and ignore any advice I may have given in that regard.

I attempted a routine procedure tonight which I have done probably 500 times since I first turned my hair purple when I was a silly 14-year-old. It appears that now, 20 years later, I’m still pretty fucking silly.

It started out fine. I put on the gloves, mixed the solution, put it on my head. Then I read the instructions (I’ll admit, maybe that should’ve been the first step) and checked the time.

Then…I made coffee, watched the weather, re-watched that hilarious James Franco and Seth Rogan video, switched around two chairs in the living room, decided what to make for dinner, listened to an extensive recap of an X-box game courtesy of Thing 2, answered about a million questions from Thing 3…

And realized I had no freaking idea what time this shit was supposed to come off my head. Was it 5 that I started? But that would make rinse at 5:30 and it’s already 6:00, so maybe I started at 5:30 and rinse at 6:00? But maybe…was I supposed to rinse at 6:15?

I waited until 6:10 just in case. In hindsight, this was probably not the best decision I could’ve made.

I was hoping it wasn’t too bad, but the amount (not to mention color) of the hair that was FALLING OUT OF MY HEAD was a little worrisome.

Then I knew it was terrible when my husband saw me and said just two words. “Oh. God.”

I immediately went on the defensive. “I know what you’re thinking. But it’s not black.”

He said, “Are you being serious?”

I said, “I am trying to be optimistic!”

Between him and this Halloween hair, it’s making it hard to look on the bright side. But not impossible! Tomorrow I am getting a new hat.

Messy Bun: You’re Doing It Wrong

I’ve noticed a lot of these so-called “messy bun tutorials” all over the internet and, frankly, you’re doing it wrong.

I don’t really get why a messy bun requires a tutorial, but I do understand that everyone has different strengths, so I’m going to help you out here.

Step 1: Don’t brush your hair. This is kind of an important step, as one of the main reasons for sporting a messy bun in the first place is to disguise your gnarly-ness.

bad hair day
Image courtesy of Bing images.

Step 2: Grab that tangled mess and pile it on your head. Wrap a ponytail holder or rubber band or a shoestring around it. Whatever’s handy. Kind of like this:

Image courtesy of Bing images.

Messy? Check. Bun? Check. You are done.

You’re welcome.

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