If a picture paints a thousand words

It was the picture that I never took. And the image I have of it in my mind makes me smile every single time.

Years ago, when my husband and I were just starting out, we used every last penny of our savings to buy our house. Every way we could save money, we did. I never bought formula and I breastfed my son. (Those of you who know me well realize that it had less to do with me being a tightwad and more about me being a breast milk czar... or czarina.) We bought in bulk to save a few pennies. I reused ziploc bags, hand washing them like fine china. And one fateful day, we went to Costco and found an electric shear for haircuts. Imagine how much money we could save if I cut Hubby's hair? That would be about $15-$20 a cut. Sure I knew nothing about cutting hair. But I was certain I could learn.

I have to give my husband credit. He was very brave about the whole thing. There is a certain advantage to being married and not really on the prowl anymore. Sure you want to look good, but as a smug married person, you're not trying to impress anybody (read that as, "get in bed with") because the only person you really have to impress, you've already married. Okay, that is not a great point of view. I know that. But how else can I explain my husband agreeing to my crazy harebrained (pun intended) idea to cut his hair?

Let me just say that there were good cuts and some bad cuts. There were days that my husband went to work and they didn't say anything about his hair. That is a compliment from most men. No mention of a haircut = "Looking good, Bro." But there were somedays when his coworkers would say, "Wife cut your hair?"

So we have developed this little dance, he and I. I prime the pump by telling him that he's looking a little shaggy. After a few days of this, he starts to agree. Then I say things like, "I can cut your hair." He chews on that for a few days. He doesn't like to waste shampoo. So I have to wait until he hasn't washed his hair so that I can cut it before he takes his shower. At some point, he can't stand waking up looking like a Gumby impersonator. Then he submits to my barber's shears.

My husband can be flighty. If you've not sensed that from previous posts, he really is. He doesn't take well to schedules that he has not created himself. He won't tell you what his schedule is, but when he's ready for you, you better be ready to go. No matter what you've got going on. One unlucky day, I was on my way to the bathroom when he announced that he was ready to have his haircut. I went to the garage and he had wet his head and was sitting on the stool. I told him that I'd be right back but he retorted with, "We can do this later then." He started getting up and sensing that my opportunity to cut his hair was slipping away, I said, "It's okay, Honey. I'll cut your hair now."

The resulting cut was made with my pressing my knees together and ultimately giving him a cut that not only got the dreaded, "Wife cut your hair?" comment the next day, but also has been called the Dumb & Dumber Haircut. Yes, that's right. We refer to it with a proper noun. It is that notorious. See, I really just had to go at some point but I knew that the front part of the cut was too long. In my haste, I did a horrible corrective cut. I got the scissors and cut bangs (for lack of a better word) straight across the front. I ran to the bathroom and when I got back, he had already swept up and was on his way. I didn't have a chance to fix it.

But the great thing about that haircut was that he went to work the next day and came back with what could have been devastating news. The client whose account he was working on was severing relations with his company. His company told him to look for work within the company but it may mean we would have to move. My husband tried to be sensitive and pulled me onto his lap so he could wrap his arms around me and brace me for this news. He very seriously looked into my eyes and didn't get the response he expected.

Tears? Hysteria? Worried silence? No. He got giggles and fits of laughter because that serious compassionate face was under the absolute WORST haircut of all time. It has colored that memory for me. It was a great day and it was time for a change. Sure there was some nail biting but he found a new position relatively quickly and we were able to stay put.

But before I fixed his hair, I should have taken a picture. I do have the image tattooed on the inside of my brain though, and it will have to go to the grave with me. I'm sorry that I can't share it better than that.