One of the rare occasions I will show myself. Banged up knee, no front teeth, one of Grandma’s ridiculous haircuts, yet the boy on my side could not resist my charm and became my boyfriend for one summer.
More about the dress another time, please focus on my haircut. It was Grandma’s specialty to make me look that good. I remember the day it all started.
I had just run back home from playing outside. I had stripped down to my underwear, had left my dirty clothes in the barn, opened the kitchen and showed myself in all my glory. Mud in my face and in my pigtails, proud as I could be, I announced that my team had won, which didn’t get me any praise.
“You played soccer again,” my Grandma asked, but it wasn’t a question, more a statement and I nodded because I was mighty proud of myself. Not every girl was allowed to play soccer with the boys. They had made me goalie, and I tried as hard as I could to keep the ball out of our home-made goal -not very successful if I may add.
“We have to wash your hair again,” she said and sighed, and I nodded -again.
I hated my long hair, had tried to convince my Grandmother of cutting my hair short, but of course, that was not an option. That evening she changed her mind, and cut my pigtails off with the old scissors, and made me a very happy camper by doing so.
Finally! The hair was off and I loved it. She just shook her head in disapproval. That’s how I got my haircut, my trademark for many years to come. To this day I love short hair cuts -some things never change.
Today I read an add on our neighborhood board and I felt tempted to answer. “Who is going to cut my hair?” it had read. A man explaining that he still will need his hair cut during the time of self-isolation
Barbershops and hair salons have been ordered to close the stores as of today, and it will bother many. I am one of the lucky ones. A friend of mine is a wizard with the scissor, a magician in his field, a master hairstylist who will make sure we won’t look like Tom Hanks in CASTAWAY for the time being.
But what about all the others? Perhaps I should give it a try -one more time?
Years ago, when we were young, dumb and broke, I sat on our balcony and cut our dog’s hair with the only scissor we possessed -an old kitchen scissor.
The dog didn’t mind. He was an older poodle mix who enjoyed laying outside in the sun while I pushed him around, trying to get him the best possible cut I could come up with. I must have done a good job -the dog never complained.
My husband wondered about his own hair and blinded by love, he sat down on the chair and asked me to cut it. I felt honored and started right away. YouTube would have been a blessing back then, but the internet was far away, and so I was forced to use my imagination. I was brave enough to start but saw quickly that it would be a disaster. I took more hair off his shoulder-long hair, then a bit more…and more…and more.
Come to find out I inherited my Grandma’s talent to cut hair.
I set his ears free, made sure his beautiful neck would finally get some sun as well. He didn’t say much. When he looked in the mirror, he tried to pull his remaining hair closer to his ears -it didn’t work.
We both need haircuts now and my friend will rescue us next week. Without our friend, I would be forced to experiment on my own hair, because I am not allowed to EVER come close to my husband’s hair again when I carry a scissor in my hand.
Come to think of, my husband doesn’t trust me much with anything when it comes to his facial hair. He even runs when he sees me carrying tweezers, just because I pulled one long eyebrow -or two.
It’s good to smile in uncertain times like this. The little girl, who just needed some practice, reminded me of myself.