Be Like Kate . . . or Not

During the pandemic we are all getting used to doing things a little differently--school, groceries, socializing, touching our face, working, eating out (by not really eating out), and our grooming routines--things like hair cuts. I wear my hair short and I can't stand it when it gets long enough to be the least bit unruly and wavy. Neither can my husband. He has a nice little wave on top of his head that he hates, when that wave starts to pop up and the little ripples of hair begin to grow down his neck, it's time to head to the barber. Sadly, the barber is unavailable due to COVID-19 and the ensuing social distancing. As a devoted wife, I am happy to step in and help any way that I can. Except drive the mower. Never the mower.

If you read my earlier post on the haircut situation, you're up to speed, good to go, ready to move on. If you didn't read it, you'll probably want to catch up. Right now.

After drawing Stage Three out for about as long as I could and "detoxing" the clippers in the back of my car for a few days, it was time for action. Since I found the good haircut scissors (yes, we do have some good scissors) by the bathroom sink and they were not placed there by me, I knew I better get myself together or the big guy was going to take matters into his own hands. My plan was to watch multiple YouTube videos during detox to learn the ins and outs of barbering skills and compare technique and approach. Those were lofty goals, at best. But each and every time I got out a device--any device--down the rabbit hole I'd go. Never once did I make it to YouTube on my own. I did have a couple of friends and family share a detailed video from The Small Things blog by Kate Bryan. It was an excellent video and made cutting hair using scissors and clippers LOOK so easy! But that was before we actually got into Stage Four. Here are his "before" photos or, as we prefer to call them, Stages 1-3.

I took a picture of his face. I told him he looked like a grumpy old man. He said it was because he IS a grumpy old man.

Stage Four was the real deal. It was late when we got started because, well, there was stuff to do. I watched the video. Ok. I watched PART of the video. I had my husband watch the video. Ok, again, PART of the video. All right, the truth is that I started the video as I started cutting, thinking I would cut along with Kate. There was a lot of detail and I'm not so much a detail person. And we were tired. Really tired. After a few heated conversations consisting of "What did she say? What did she do here? How did she do that?", we decided to just go for it. Goodbye, Kate and Justin. I proceeded to do it just like I do most things. Catch the big ideas and highlights and then wing it. Whatever you can't remember, improvise. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't.

My fingers had been itching for those clippers since they made their way into my car. I was scared and excited all at the same time. We got the clippers out and surveyed the attachments. There were seriously a LOT of guards. I picked one up that looked not too long and not too short. Just so you know, I did look at the numbers. They didn't mean a lot--1/2 inch of hair (especially short hair) is a lot different than a 1/2 inch of wood or fabric or a line on paper or when we're talking short hair vs. long hair. I attached the guard, plugged in the cord, pushed the button and went for the hair on the back of his neck--those curly little ripples that were trailing down. I swooped upward. Nothing. Not a single hair moved. I went a little higher into the thicker part, thinking it was safe. Straight up the middle. "Oops! Uh, there's sizable chunk out of the middle of the back." was not what the big guy wanted to hear. I thought I could make it disappear and did some more swoops on both sides of it. The oops was still visible but not quite as pronounced. However, the back of his head had quite a bit of Dorothy Hamill action going on. If you don't know who Dorothy Hamill is or the hair style she is famous for, look her up. I used my amazing problem solving skills at this point and put the clippers aside then picked up the good, old-fashioned scissors.

I have trimmed my mom's hair a few times over the years, so scissors weren't as foreign (or as exciting) to me as the clippers. I tried to mimic what I've seen my hair dressers do. Lift up the hair, daintily clip a little off. Tiny, precise chops. That got old fast. And his hair didn't cooperate very well. I know there is a method to where you cut--you do it here and then you do it there. Mostly, I cut here for awhile until I got tired and moved on to somewhere else. When I heard a "crunch" sound, I knew I had too much hair but, alas, the crunch sound came a tad too late to change that. I worked my way around, cutting a little here and little there. The big guy kept saying that he thought that was good. It was good enough. The only difference between a good haircut and a bad one was two weeks, he told me repeatedly. I think he was a little nervous. I got the mirror so he could see himself. But he couldn't see the back. Maybe that was on purpose, subconsciously, of course . . . I did a little trim around his ears and realized the next morning that I didn't even check to see if they were even. He suggested I use the clipper without the guards to "clean up his neck". I did that and he, brave man that he is, said I could even take it up a little higher. Was he crazy? Yes. Yes, he was. No way was that happening. I think he really was angling for that buzz cut, after all. Not today, my friend. So we removed the towel, brushed him off, and he showered for the second time in 30 minutes. To be honest, it was way more than 30 minutes. Hair was everywhere--tiny pieces of whiteness. His shorts were covered. I was covered. The floor was covered. The counter was covered. That's just one more of those secrets that hairdressers keep to themselves--how to keep from looking like a furry kitten by the end of the day. And here is how he looked "after" or as we call it Stage Five:

I'm not sure if this is hair lines or shadow, but he says it's all good. 

Oh, my. I see some clipper lines in this photo. Who knew? 

By the way, there is not something hanging out of his nose, it's the back end of the dog behind the recliner. 

If you are looking for a blog to tell you how to give a man a haircut, this is probably not the one for you. You need Kate. Go find her. Her video is great. My hunger to master the clippers is growing. The dog clippers arrived yesterday.  Wish me luck.