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Sunday, 14 February 2010

Protecting my hair from myself

Long, long ago, in The Days Of Twiggy . . . 

. . . I gave myself a haircut using an electric razor and a hand mirror reflecting the back of my head into the bathroom mirror. As I worked I kept liking my creation more and more . . . all layery, yet sleek.
Until I tried to even up my nape. Then it got worse and worser.
By the time my shaking hands wrapped the cord around the tool to put it away, the lower curve of the back of my skull was visible.  
I have been careful not to [often] repeat such a tonsorial exercise.

Three days ago I used my kitchen scissors to trim (chop, hack) off the "wings" that were growing at the sides of my face.  From the front my hair looks much better than before my inspiration. 
I look, in fact, pretty good!
I have a haircut appointment this morning at ten.  Yesterday I tried to change it, because I have other things I would rather do, but I can't get a Saturday appointment for another month. That's too long:  I have had a bite of that old apple. 
By Tuesday, if I didn't keep this morning's appointment, I would be Very Sorry.
This is the wrong time of year to have a cold neck.