Whose hair is it anyway?
We took the plunge.
We cut my son's hair.
And by "we," I mean my sister cut as I supervised and my husband took pictures (in case there was a snafu requiring photographic evidence). My sister is a professional, and by golly, no one other than an experienced, knowledgeable, and licensed hair-cutting professional was coming within a mile of my son's precious locks with $200 scissors (I'm not kidding. Her scissors cost $200. They're magical scissors).
Before I share pictures, let me back up.
Once in a blue moon, when I get my hair cut, the interaction with my sister goes something like this -
Morgan: "So what do you want done today?"
Me: "I don't care. You're the one who told me I needed a haircut."
Morgan: "I know, but do you want layers? Are you growing out your bangs? Do you want to be able to pull it back?"
Me: "Yeah, all that."
Morgan: "Seriously, Ali, you have to tell me what you want."
Me: "Okay, fine, I want the haircut that will take the least amount of time and makes me look 20 pounds lighter. Go."
Morgan: {tosses my head back in the sink, turns on scalding hot water, and shampoos my head viciously} {something tells me she is slightly annoyed}
On the contrary, when I finally broke down and agreed to have my sister (her official title is Artistic Director) (she graduated from the Vidal Sassoon Academy of L.A.) (you know, L.A., like Los Angeles, the heart of fashion) cut my son's hair, the interaction went something like this -
Me: "Okay, fine, you can trim it, but I mean trim it. Not cut it. There's a huge difference."
Morgan: "I know, Alison {it's never good when she uses my given name}; I do this for a living."
Me: "But mostly just the front; he just needs a little taken from the front. Only a little. And just a teensy bit from the back and sides. You know, just clean it up. But nothing dramatic. I don't want people to notice."
Morgan: "Okay, but he needs that hair out of his face and ears, so you're going to notice a little bit."
Me: "But then don't leave the back too long because then he'll look like he has a mullet."
Morgan: "He's not going to have a mullet."
Me: "But you don't see it every morning when he wakes up and the back is all smashed down. It sometimes looks mullet-ish."
Morgan: "Okay, Alison {oh dear, there she goes again with that Alison crap}, I'm not going to give him a mullet."
Me: "And don't you dare take off any of his curls. He can't lose his curls. Promise me you won't take any curls."
Morgan: "No curls, I promise."
Me: "I'll be so mad if you take his curls."
Morgan: {she gives me a really stern look that, when translated, means something that I cannot repeat}
Me: "Okay, I trust you."
Morgan: {still staring me down}
Me: "And just a trim."
Morgan: {still staring}
Me: "And leave the curls."
It went well. It really did. But hey, let's face it, we've all cried over a haircut before.
Oh, and for the record, I think she took a curl. I'm just sayin'.
