Wednesday, March 25, 2009

closure on the haircut (for now)

Freedom, of sorts, has been achieved.

Ronan cut my hair. I gave her the directions, but I also gave her the clippers and the scissors, and let her go. She's a pretty detail-oriented sort of person. I had every faith in her ability. And now I feel as if a great weight has been lifted from my ... head. I have been cut loose. (This is the only "before" picture I have in digital format.)

Freedom is not having to buy conditioner. Freedom is not having to buy "calming" shampoos. Freedom is not having to do anything to keep my mop out of my eyes. Freedom is also not dreading the long process in the shower just trying to get the woolly stuff wet. Freedom is not scaring little children. (If I brushed my long hair so that all the locks of curls separated into individual strands, the whole mass grew and grew, not just to four times what you can see in the picture, but to a size that could stop traffic, commandeer a tank, maybe even stage a coup d'etat. Certainly my hair had practiced up during many guerrilla campaigns against me. Campaigns it always won. The only trick I ever learned to counter its insurgency was olive oil.

But are we ever truly free? Sadly not. I wanted a maintenance free haircut. On a day-to-day level, I got it - in exchange for a monthly appointment with my daughter and the clippers. Clipper jobs require a shower immediately after, because clipper-clippings itch maddeningly. Way more than hair cut with a scissors, and no amount of rubbing with a dry towel will get it all off. My haircuts also entail cleaning the sink and countertop afterwards and sweeping the floor. Such a fuss. I would have us do it outside, if I could rig a decent mirror near a convenient outdoor outlet. And if it didn't rain eight months of the year.

(Here is the "after" picture. The hair, at least, looks pretty good. See, Mom? You don't need to take me to a "professional" when I come visit in April. I've got one in-house.)


  1. Where are the child labor laws when you need them?

    When will you be in Cleveland. Any chance it's Easter?

  2. And for the love of God, would it kill you to smile?

  3. Dear Anonymous,

    Yes. It would. :)

  4. But I miss your Big Poodle Do. Or is it poodle doo? OK, if it would kill you to smile, don't do it, but you sure look unhappy about your new low-maintenance hair. Perhaps you got a dose of grayanotoxin.
    I just started Sweetness and Light: The Mysterious History of the Honeybee by Hattie Ellis.