Haircuttin’ on the High Seas

“Want to do something really fun?” Scott yelled eagerly from the cockpit.  Being someone who loves herself some fun, I perked up and got excited.  Was he planning a cool hike?  Did he book us his and her massages at the resort hotel down the street?  Was the local beach bar having two for one specials?  My interest was piqued.

“Yeah!” I replied, “What are you thinking?” 

Scott’s face emerged in the companionway with an I-love-you-honey-and-I-need-you-to-do something-for-me grin.  He raised a pair of clippers in the air and said excitedly: “Cut my hair!”

Skeeeert. 

Not exactly the definition of "fun" in my book.

Considering I am not a stylist and the last time I sashayed into hair cutting was in 1983 when I butchered my little brother's bangs (the result was not unlike Jim Carrey’s coif a la “Dumb and Dumber”) this was a brave request. 

But I rarely shy away from a challenge and, if nothing else, I figured I could have a good laugh if I completely butchered his ‘do.  After all, he did ask me – a complete and utter novice – to use clippers on his head.  If the results were disastrous, he’d have no one to blame but himself.

Luckily for Scott, he a) has a ton of hair  (it’s insane how thick his mane is) b) he was very good at giving me  instructions (he talked me through the process much like a surgeon would guide a resident through an open-heart procedure) and c) he’s so dang good looking that no matter what I did to his head people would still stop him on the street to let him know he’s a dead ringer for Ben Affleck (it’s true).

All in all, I think it went pretty well.  Aside from the little snafu in the back of his head and the fact that I did cut the front a bit *too* short (what can I say, I loved Dumb and Dumber) – I do not laugh out loud every time I see him and that says something.  Regardless, I’ll not be signing up for beauty school anytime soon and I’ll refrain from asking Scott to return the favor.