It Wasn't the Hair

Let it be known that my husband has a very thick head of brown hair. It is rarely more than a half an inch long on any part of his scalp. This is because once it gets longer than that, it literally has a mind of its own. It swirls, it sticks straight up off his head, it is oblivious to attempts at styling. It laughs at products that promise to "keep your hair in place." Porcupines would be a little envious of his hair if it ever got long enough. Basically, he has had the same hair style for the entire time that I have known him, which is coming up on 15 years. What follows is a recent conversation...

Hubba-hubba: It's time to cut my hair. How do you want me to cut it?

Me: Honey, whatever. Whatever you want to do with it.

Hubba-hubba: No, seriously. I'm asking you for your input. How do you think I should do my hair?

Me: Honestly, whatever you want is fine.

Hubba-hubba: (frustrated) You know, I need some help here, and you're not helping at all.

Me: Let me ask you a question.

Hubba-hubba: Fine, shoot.

Me: Has anyone ever complimented you on your hair?

Hubba-hubba: (thinking) Wellll, now that I think about it, no, not really.

Me: That's what I'm trying to tell you, it doesn't matter what you do with it, it always pretty much looks the same. Not horrific, but not spectacular either.

Hubba-hubba: (hurt silence, then) You don't like my hair?

Me: My dear, you have many fine qualities, but your hair ain't one of them.

Hubba-hubba: (huffy) Fine, I'll just shave it all off, then.

Me: You might be on to something there, hon.

Hubba-hubba: I'm sorry I ever asked.


Comments

Melodee said…
I never ever notice when my husband gets his hair cut!
11:12 PM
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