Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

This morning I cut my hair myself, something I’ve been messing about doing half my life it seems.  And I’ve spent the other half being upset with, happy with, or puzzled by the results of professional haircuts.  At least when I do it myself I save time, learn something, and am always delighted to use the money and time I would have spent with a hairdresser on something more fun.  And less traumatizing.

When we first moved to the Arctic with our one year old daughter my hair was long and straight.  I wore it pulled back at the neck, braided, up in a pony tail and even in pig tails sometimes.   We lived in an isolated community with few amenities, accessible only by air, and I was pregnant and bored.  There’s a deadly combination.  After weeks of conversing with a toddler because my husband was always working or away, using up all my yarn and craft supplies and watching it snow,  I decided to hack off my hair.  Hey, it passed some time.  I took off only a few inches that first time, but then my mother in law sent me the first curling iron I ever owned and the real experimenting began.

This is me with my two babies (February 1976) after six months in Cambridge Bay and who knows how many self-inflicted hair cuts.  Once my son arrived I had much less time to be bored so the frequency of hair cuts slowed down considerably.

Fast forward to Christmas that same year when we flew to Ontario.  Our son was almost eleven months old and our daughter was two and a half.  I was long overdue for a visit to a salon.  Mothers of young children generally aren’t known for their astute sense of fashion and style, which might explain why I decided to get my hair cut in a “shag”‘ made popular by people like Jane Fonda in the movie Klute.

When I returned with my newly shorn “do” my daughter stopped in her tracks and stared at me.  Not much ever made that kid slow down, so that’s why I remember it.  I picked her up and she grabbed a little fist full of what was left of the hair at my forehead and said “MOMMY ARE YOU IN THERE?”  Yes, my daughter always spoke in caps lock.

And yes, those are bangs. The shortest bangs in history, except maybe for the ones little kids cut by accident on themselves.  I thought you also might enjoy seeing W in a pink paper party hat, and a messy gift opening Christmas Eve.  And my classy shoes?  Don’t miss those.

The great thing about hair is it keeps on growing and after a couple of months I finally made peace with this hair cut.

Jane Fonda, eat your heart out.

Sharing My World 14

Share Your World – 2015 Week #1

How do you get rid of pesky phone calls from telemarketers?

By saying as many completely stupid things as it takes.

What are you a “natural” at doing?

Saying completely stupid things.

How often do you get a haircut?

I don’t like to admit this and I certainly don’t brag about it,  but most of the time I cut my hair myself.  It’s only hair, and it’s a pretty simple cut.  I’m familiar with its licks and quirks and how it grows.  It has to be left a little longer on the top where it’s thin and grows slowly,  and thinned out like crazy in the back where its thick and grows fast.  Some hair dressers get this.  Others get it backwards and then wonder why I have a mullet in a couple of weeks.   I have a different definition of a “trim” than they do and it does not include words like “scalping” or “buzz cut”.  I can trim other people’s hair, so why not my own?  I have excellent hair cutting scissors and a trimmer with different attachments.  I do the back with the help of a mirror.  Eventually my trimmed up locks get to the point where a professional needs to deal with them.  Hey, I pay them good money, they should have to work for it, right?

Since I no longer go to work or have to do something with my hair in a hurry every day,  I have been letting it dry naturally and wave and curl and do whatever it wants.  So far, no small children have been traumatized (as far as I know.)

What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word “fun”?

If you were expecting it might be “saying completely stupid things to telemarketers” you would be wrong. That’s not fun for either one of us, really.   But spending time with family, where the stupid things you’ve said can be repeated and laughed at – that’s fun.   My artwork is fun.  So is blogging and reading and playing word games and staying at home and relaxing.  I’m not very high maintenance, I guess.

Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week to come?

I am grateful for a quiet New Years Eve, a warm and cozy house that keeps out the bitter cold, new movies on Netflix and my charcoal pencils.  It’s been lovely to watch the magpies coming and going in the big black spruce tree across the road, and to catch a glimpse of the white jack rabbit making fresh footprints in the snow.

I don’t know what I’m looking forward to.  Certainly not calls from telemarketers.  By now they probably have our number on their lost causes list anyway.

Worst-Ever Haircut

Sheeesh. Who takes pictures of their worst hair cuts?

I have a bad habit of snipping away at my hair myself when it annoys me. Then several scissor-happy sessions later when I see an actual hairdresser and she tells me my cut is all uneven I just say oh, I know, that idiot who did my last trim was SO stupid…..

Surprisingly enough, I’m rather good at cutting other people’s hair. You know, as long as they’re not going anywhere special for at least two weeks.

All you have to do to get good at it is to practice a lot; on dolls, younger siblings and your own children. Then when your spouse asks you to give him a haircut you will know that you’ve either become extremely talented or he just doesn’t give a damn what he looks like anymore.

As long as he doesn’t end up resembling Donald Trump, I figure I’ve done a pretty good job.