If so, Mrs. HM is now sporting such a 'do.
Several months ago, I asked The Pony to trim the scraggly ends off my lovely lady-mullet. He did an admirable job. Got the undercutting just right, so I could use a round brush to turn the ends under. Undercutting is done by pulling the hair out at a 45-degree angle, then holding the scissors parallel to the floor while cutting. So the top layer of hair is longer than the under-layers, thus allowing the curl-under.
This time? Not so much. We went to the corner of the back porch, down past the dog dishes, past POOLIO, to the corner rails at the end of the house. That was due to rain, and the amount of light coming in under the porch.
First of all, The Pony asked if he should hold the scissors in his right or left hand. SWEET GUMMI MARY! The Pony is right-handed! Unlike wonky Genius. So I would expect him to use his dominant hand when snipping around my ears with a sharp implement. Then he stood at my shoulder, pulling the air toward himself with a comb. Pretty hard to judge a 45-degree angle while you're looking straight on at the hank of hair you're about to cut.
"Your RIGHT hand, of course! And last time you stood at my back. So you could see that the hair was pulled out at a 45-degree angle."
"Okay. I'll move. We decided about 3 inches, right? A little longer than my first two finger joints."
"Correct."
The Pony seemed hesitant. Almost as if he had little interest in HELPING an old lady shear the scraggly ends off her lovely lady-mullet. There was a bit of sawing, and I felt a wad of hair hit my back. Upper ample rumpus area.
"Yeah. I'm going back in to get those kitchen scissors. These don't seem real sharp."
So he took back the gray-handled scissors with the little finger-hook thingy that I use for cutting my bangs in the bathroom mirror, and returned with the orange-handled scissors I mainly use for cutting paper, but had left in the kitchen.
"You're keeping the scissors parallel to the ground, right?"
"Yes, Mother."
On he went. Pulling out hair with the comb, then cutting. No sawing feeling this time.
"Parallel?"
"Yes."
"Parallel?"
"I am!"
"Just making sure."
"You said the same amount all around, right?"
"Yeah."
When The Pony declared that he was done, I reached my hand up to feel the back.
"NOOOO! I don't have any hair left! Where did my hair go? I can't comb that under, because there's NO HAIR! It's only about two inches when I pull it away from my scalp!"
"You SAID the same amount all around! So I did! I cut off about three inches every time I pulled out the hair."
"NO! It was supposed to be about three inches off the length. Not every time you pulled the hair away from my head! It's like you cut it, and went back, and cut off ANOTHER three inches!"
"It doesn't look all that bad..."
"I don't have any hair in the back!!! It will take about three months to grow partway back! Hair only grows a half inch a month. Now when I win my big jackpot at the casino, I will look terrible in my picture!"
"They didn't even take your picture when you won your $8,600. Besides, maybe this will make you more likely to win, because you'll have a bad picture."
Farmer H wisely made no comment on my hair when he returned to the Mansion.
"You didn't mention my hair."
"Well... you got it cut or something. I'm guessing The Pony did it?"
"Yeah. How could you tell?"
No way did The Pony hold those scissors parallel to the ground. It's like he held them perpendicular. He DOES know the difference! I don't have an undercut, I have an OVERCUT. So now the hair will flip out like That Girl Marlo Thomas. Where I have hair left.
Seriously. I have no hair in the back. It's like a stub. A blunt-ended stub. Like if I had a ponytail, and The Pony sawed through it and left the ends. From the front, it doesn't look TOO bad.
People will probably stop me to inquire about the various hues of Dutch Boy Paint...
5 comments:
So, your name is now Ann Marie?
You have a few pretty scarves big enough to wrap around as turbans right? Just leave your fringe (bangs) out and cover the rest.
Sioux,
No. After reading River's comment, I think I am more of a Rhoda. But I WOULD like a Donald Hollinger to do my bidding.
***
River,
I have one scarf, and it is for winter, given to me by my mom. The scarf that threw himself over the rail and down those 13 rail-less basement steps. I don't think he's up to being a head-wrap.
Thanks, they say a good belly laugh is good for the soul. My soul is good now. I have been cutting my own hair since quarantine. I have had one haircut in a salon and when I got home everybody here agreed with me that she had done an awful job. She cut it so short! It was barely over an inch!! All over my head. I looked like a recovering cancer patient! Hair grows. Lesson learned, she will not be cutting my gray hair again. My daughters even agreed I did a better job than the hair stylist. You might be in for a whole new look and thank the Pony!
Kathy,
At least with a recovering cancer patient haircut, you might get sympathetic looks. I have a prison haircut. People take one look, and snatch their children away from me, so there's that...
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