the hair cuttery

Anyone that knows Doug well knows that he is a hair man. He does an excellent job cutting hair, and he’s extremely obsessed with how his hair looks. He’s a perfectionist.

So a few weeks back when he suggested I cut his hair, I scoffed at the suggestion. Nobody cuts his hair except trained professionals or friends that have proven their skills. He practically requires a resume and references. So when he kept asking me to do it, I realized he was serious. My only real experience with cutting hair was when a desperate mission companion asked me to do a trim, promising me I couldn’t screw it up. When I started to, in fact, screw it up, she stopped me in disgust.

I explained to Doug that I was not trustworthy, but he was persistent. So I stood in the tub in our teensy bathroom while he sat in front of the mirror, guiding me step by step. I’ve never used clippers in my life, and it was a terribly stressful experience. The first picture here says to me "I want you to try this, but if you mess up my hair you're toast." I was feeling more and more comfortable as we went along, however, and Doug was very encouraging. I became overconfident at one point, though, and I totally took out a chunk of his hair at a very bad spot. Oops. We were able to fix it pretty well and I think we only argued once. His hair actually turned out looking great--not perfect--but very doable. Not too shabby for a perfectionist and a novice.