Thursday, June 19, 2008

Trusting husband = ugly hair

Aaron finally talked me into cutting his hair last night. It was a long process to get me to agree to this. I was not at all excited to be in charge of the attractiveness of my husband. He is very picky about his hair and what possessed him to think I should cut it, is beyond me.

Anyways, we went and bought some new clippers because the voltage difference in Singapore fried his clippers from home. So we hopped over to the Asian version of a KMart/Best Buy and bought a "middle of the road" pair. Not cheap, but not top dollar. We brought them home and Aaron checked everything out and talked me through it for the hundredth time.

We soon realized that the new clippers did not have a number 2 guard, which is the guard he prefers to go around the back and sides of his dome. The numbers we had were 1.25, 3, 4, 5, 6 and so on. So Aaron told me to just use the 1.25 and it'll just be a little shorter. "It'll just mean that I can go longer before you cut it again." He tells me. Super, I thought, I'm now signed up to do this again already.

So I psych myself up and go in for the kill. After the first strip of baldness, I start laughing uncontrolably. "Aaron, it's really short!"

I'm not kidding you, it was to the scalp. I looked like I didn't even use a guard.

"No, it's fine, that's how short I cut it. It'll be fine."

To appease my freakout, we switched to the number 3 and did the rest of the sides and back until I felt comfortable. That wasn't so bad, but the bald patch from the first strike was still staring back at me. So I got the courage to return to the 1.25 guard to even it out.

This is where the horror began.

The more I tried to blend, the blotchier and higher the ugliness went. It was like, the more I tired to fix the situation, the more the clippers betrayed me and put random patches in his scalp. Finally I just gave up on the clippers and I tried to fix it by hand with scissors. Since I'm a beautician and all, you can imagine how that went.

I begged and begged Aaron to let me take pictures of his hair. However, because I can't look at him without laughing, he won't let me. It looks like someone shaved his head in the dark and then slapped a toupee on top. Then an angry bird attacked him from the sides and clipped off extra chunks. It's a mess and one we can't fix at that. His hair is so short that it's beyond help.

Here's the clincher kids. After all of that, Aaron reads the intructions to the clippers. Lo and behold, we find out that the numbers on the guards were not the numbers they use to number guards in the US. The numbers were the height of how short it cuts hair in MILLIMETERS. So a US number two guard would have actually been like a 5 or 6 on these....not a 1.25.

Oh the awesomeness.

1 comment:

Cori said...

Oh Sis. This brings back memories. Johnny tried to make me do the same thing, and we had the same results. (Didn't have your excuse about the numbers on the guards, though.) I was literally in tears. We finally had to decide that our marriage was worth the $15/week he was paying for a haircut. And now, he cuts his own. Uses a mirror for the back. And he looks fabulous!