By the time you read this, The Pony will have cut my hair. Or beheaded me! I hope he didn't inherit his father's knack with barber tools! Not that he's using them. I am providing only a pair of orange-handled scissors. They used to be FISKARS, but I'm pretty sure mine are a knock-off brand. My FISKARS were broken by the illicit clandestine use of most likely Genius.
Anyhoo... Farmer H has a regular set of hair-trimming clippers. He used to give the boys their "summer haircut," as he called it. Which was really nothing more than a prison shearing, or perhaps that of a new military recruit. He'd holler for them to come to the back porch, shirtless, to be shorn.
The year that The Pony was five, Farmer H sent him back to get a towel to keep the shaven hairs from itching on his back and shoulders. The Pony returned, holding the folded towel across both outstretched hands, like a royal servant carrying the Queen's crown on a velvet pillow.
"This is to catch the blooood," he said solemnly.
Let the record show that the previous year, Farmer H had nicked The Pony's ear with the clippers, resulting in a trickle of blood that was more terrifying than the pain.
Anyhoo... I am sick of my lovely lady-mullet cascading down the neck of my shirt. I used to comb it under, but it's so long now that it does the outward That Girl flip, curves back in, then flips out again! It doesn't help that my last shearing at Terrible Cuts was extra terrible, leaving the back on the long side anyway. I am in no mood to go back to Terrible Cuts for another butchering right now.
The Pony says I really do have a mullet. I think that's what he said. He was snickering so much I can't be sure. He agreed to snip my tresses, out on the porch. He also wanted to take a picture after cutting the sides, with only the back section left. A SUPERMULLET,
if you will.
Not sure of The Pony's plans for such a picture... He's better not have a supersecret blog!
You could just take that overlong back section and ponytail it. Let it loose next winter when you'll be thankful for the extra warmth.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteNah, it looks bad. I wouldn't wear a ponytail to town. But the GOOD news is: THE PONY DID A SURPRISINGLY GOOD JOB OF CUTTING! He even did the "undercutting" so it combs under now with a round brush.
It took less than 10 minutes, out on the back porch, in my pajamas. Much easier than Terrible Cuts. No cost. It's the right length I asked for. Only on errant tuft of longer hair when I looked in the mirror pre-shower. I cut that off myself, it was on the side.
The Pony was relieved to find out he only had to rim the ends. I did the bangs myself the day before. I'm not headed for a beauty pageant, but I went to the casino and was not self-conscious. It's a relief not to have that hair down in my collar!
You are a brave woman. If I had asked my son to cut my hair--when he was The Pony's age--I'm sure he would have slipped, and I'd have a super-short chunk cut out in the wrong spot.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad it ended up well. Perhaps The Pony could set up his own styling chair on his days off from the USPS... He could take on another personality... and go to town.
Sioux,
ReplyDeleteI have nerves of steel, from a lifetime of sweaving with Farmer H. Your son would be shirtless to CUT hair, rather than to GET his cut! I am also sure he would "accidentally" slip, and give you a bald spot. Probably while thinking of the time you made him wear a rented swimsuit...