Getting Older

Last night I buzzed Hubby's hair, which is one of my nonpreferred monthly chores. It actually wouldn't be so bad except that Hubby usually demands (after a week of saying "I need my hair cut.") that I cut his hair at 11PM on a Sunday night.

Anyhow, I suppose we were both high off of birthday cake (I had only one small piece!) by the time we got around to cutting Hubby's hair and we were acting pretty goofy. Hubby was pissing me off because he kept bending over. Finally I demanded to know what he was looking at.

"I have this lone hair down by my ankle. No hair and then, BAM there's a hair."

Now this is where I sympathize with Hubby. When I buzz his hair, it reminds the poor guy that he is going bald, so he tries to increase his overall hair count by finding strays. Never mind the new batch that I can see on his back, but I don't want to make him any more depressed so I don't mention that. This doesn't stop me from chiding him about the hair on his ankle however.

"That's how you know you're really old--when you have hair on your ankle!"

And as Hubby is laughing, I tell him to stay still because I am not very safe with clippers.

"Stop moving! I can't cut your hair when you move--it makes your head fat wad up!!"

That's when I lost him in fits of shuddering laughter. So if you see him today and his hair looks a little scraggly, now you know why. And if you push upwards just slightly on his scalp, you will see the head fat firsthand.