Four years ago, while my husband and I were just dating, he convinced me to cut his hair. I’d never cut anyone’s hair before, and that kind of thing has never been my strong suit, but he wanted me to give it a shot. So I did. It took 2 hours to complete, because I would start cutting, then freak out. He would take the clippers from my hand and turn them off, then put his hands on my shoulders, look me in the eye, and assure me I was doing fine. After several episodes of that, and with my roommate at my side as an advisor, I finally finished. And, it turned out fine. I’ve been cutting his hair ever since. I’m not great, but you can’t beat it for the price.
Personally, I like to get my hair cut every 4-6 weeks. I learned long ago that I do not look good with hair past shoulder length. The longer it gets the stringier and flatter it looks. I just hate spending the money for a haircut though. I think I need it, but I can think of so many more important ways I could use that money. It becomes a battle in my head each and every time.
Last week, I cut Dean’s hair like I’ve been doing every few weeks for the past four years. And then, I convinced him to cut mine. I had complete trust in him. He has a good eye for detail, and he’s a perfectionist, and he’s just good with his hands. So, after a two minute YouTube video tutorial, I gave him a pair of scissors and let him loose. The end result:
(I should’ve taken before and after pics. It was shoulder-length when he started.)
Do I have an amazing husband or what?
Oh, and he’s pretty handsome too.
Okay, I’ll stop…