>Hair Stylist was never on my list of things I wanted to be when I grew up. I was always something of a Plain Jane, and a tomboy even, so I never spent a large amount of time fussing over my hair. Except for a few periods during my childhood where I sported a poufy Orphan Annie-style perm, my goto hairsyle has always been a a simple cut, layered around my face and long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail or hairclip when I wanted.
I started cutting people’s hair when I was in college. My friend, Anette, wore her hair in a short pixie cut, and as poor college students, we didn’t have a whole lot of extra money to spend going to the salon. So, when her hair started to get too long and straggly for her taste, I told her that I could probably try cutting it if she wanted. I went out and bought a pair of haircutting shears and gave it a go. Surprisingly, it turned out looking pretty darn well, and I ended up cutting Anette’s through most of the rest of our college careers together. Since then, I have also tried my hand with a few other friends, some friends’ children, my birthdad, and even my little brothers.
These days, I am even my husband’s own personal stylist, though not by choice. Steven refuses to have his hair but by anyone other than me, and Paula–a long-time family from Long Island who has been cutting his hair since he was 10-years-old. Hell, Paula even came to our wedding in Vegas and gave Steven a much needed hair cut the night before our wedding so he wouldn’t have to sport a mullet for the ceremony.
Steven says that I should be flattered that I am the only person other than Paula who is allowed to touch his hair, because that means I do a good job. Sometimes I believe him, and sometimes I think he just has me cut it because it’s free and it means that he can drink a beer and watch a ballgame while he’s getting a haircut. Either way I do it willingly enough because I know that Steven would be perfectly content to simply let his hair grow until the next time we visit Long Island, and I’m not to keen on my husband walking around with his hair hanging down in his eyes like Justin Bieber. No thank you.
I’ve been debating for months now whether or not to try cutting Cadence’s hair. All of a sudden it just grew. One morning I went to get her out of her crib and noticed some of the hair on top of her head was hanging down in her eyes. It was weird though, because it was just a few wispy pieces, while her actual bangs were still growing and thickening ever so slowly underneath. For weeks I kept putting it off, wondering if I might actually be able to get her to sit still enough to let me try. The only other alternative would be to take her in to a salon and try to hold her in my lap while a stylist cut her hair. Knowing my little Energizer Bunny has issues being still, especially when there are a lot of other people around, I figured it would probably be a whole lot easier to just do it myself. At this point, I’ve had plenty of practice cutting her fidgety father’s hair, so I guessed I could probably do a decent job, even if she didn’t sit perfectly still.
Cadence was good as gold for the 15 minutes I needed to give her a good trim, and I have to say, I’m pretty proud of my handiwork. Of course, I had to set up the camera to get some shots of my baby girl’s very first haircut, and here are my favorites:
|I don’t know who looks more nervous–Cadence or Electra?|
|Since I don’t have a squirt bottle in the house, I just had to douse her with a little water from a cup.|
|She just doesn’t look quite sure what to think.|
|Taking the first snips.|
|Making sure I get it even.|
|Electra checking in to make sure no one is eating without her.|
|Just a little off the back.|
|The hair is tickling our noses.|
|Making sure we get rid of the mullet without losing the curls.|
|Just a smidge more off the top.|
|Oh my gosh, is she still taking pictures?!?|
Tonight’s 365 Project entry is dedicated to Cadence and her first big girl haircut. My baby is growing up.