LEE WARD: Do hair styling, landscaping go hand-in-hand? | Lifestyles
A couple of weeks ago, we were still doing a little yard work. Well, I wasn’t. The guy I pay to do such things was doing my yard work. I called a friend who said he had been trimming shrubs at his house.
I continue to be surprised at him doing yard work. Normally, he’s not the outdoorsy type and he’s not crazy about manual labor, either. But for some reason, he takes to a little bit of yard work.
I told him I wouldn’t even know where to cut. He replied, “You just start cutting and you’ll see. It will reveal itself to you, like cutting hair. It’s mystical.”
That was the craziest explanation of gardening — and haircutting — I’ve ever heard.
But he cuts his own hair and it always looks the same to me. He also cuts his mother’s hair and, again, always looks the same. He studied botany in college, so maybe there is a link between haircutting and trimming shrubs.
I don’t pay a lot of attention to things like people’s haircuts. I give my full attention at work, so when I’m not working it’s difficult for me to muster the brain power to focus. My brain wants to relax.
Whereas I am terrible with plants, my husband wouldn’t allow me to tend his plants. Or the shrubbery. Or the yard. So I have little experience growing plants, except for the years I raised a vegetable garden with my grandmother and I suspect her extremely green thumb saved the harvest every year.
As for hair, I only dared to cut my own hair this year when I was concerned about going out and having a stranger breathe in my face. When I was a grade-schooler I cut my own bangs after getting bubble gum stuck in them and, of course, it was the week of school pictures.
In March, I just wanted the ends trimmed, and it was getting long. So I put my hair in a ponytail, held it out from my head and cut. It was fun, feeling the scissors crunch through the tendrils and seeing the final result: even ends. I was so excited, I decided I would start trimming my own hair, so every four to six weeks, I’d go through the same procedure, thinking I was getting spiffed up.
By late summer, I was more comfortable getting out, so I dared to get an actual professional haircut.
I told my stylist to take off whatever she need to jazz me up a bit. I never expect miracles.
She gasped when she began to cut. Just a little one, not meant to embarrass me, but to acknowledge that my hair looked like it was last trimmed wth pinking shears. (An aside: I used to beg my grandmother to cut my hair with pinking shears.)
My haircutting friend doubts this story, believing she was leading me to think it was worse than it was so I would spend money on haircuts.
I enjoy having someone fool with my hair. Plus, it’s good to get out and contribute to the local economy while also enjoying the company of other people. Finally, I can’t see the back of my head, and I have to trust someone.
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