Jim snapped this photo of Jazz getting her afternoon cuddles and I wasn’t going to share it on account of I’m fat, wearing my glasses, and currently in possession of the worst haircut, but hell with it, the haircut is kind of a funny story.
So anyway, Sunday morning I head out to my usual salon to get a haircut. It’s a pretty straight forward haircut – just long enough to be curly on top, shave the back and sides up tight. I picked this haircut because any fool can do it.
So I give my instructions and the gal goes to work. Meanwhile, in comes this whole family with a little one-year-old boy, getting his very first haircut ever, OMG, and much ado is made. A tiny little haircut apron with animals is produced, photos and video are being taken, and there’s cooing and fussing and it’s all very adorable.
My salon lady pauses, says to me, “Trim this much off?” so I look. She’s doing that thing where they hold your hair up with the bit they mean to cut between their fingers, you know. I have to put my glasses back on for that. It’s like standard trim length and I’m all “Yeah, just like that.”
So I take my glasses back off and she starts cutting hair and says “Here take a look,” and I put my glasses back on to see she’s sheared me like a sheep.
“Holy @$#!@$&!?,” I’m thinking, but there’s this little kid right there with his mom and dad and all the celebrating of first haircuts, and I don’t want to traumatize the little guy by throwing the screaming fit I want to throw, so I’m like “Yeah, that’s greeeeat…”
And that’s the story of how I got my brother’s haircut.