M & D both came home early from work on an insignificant Thursday evening and whisked me away in our automobile. I immediately deduced that we were about to engage in something notable. We never take car rides on weeknights.
We drove. We parked. And we entered a resplendent place. A wonderland of sorts. Was this heaven? There were toys lining every last inch of the walls. Everywhere I looked, I found new treasures. Whatever it was, it was magnificent.
The woman working at the wonderland sat me down in a little chair shaped like a car in front a small television with cartoons playing (obviously, she didn't realize that I take no interest in something so pedestrian as cartoons). Was this tiny television displaying such foolish subject matter supposed to serve as some sort of distraction? She didn't realize who she was dealing with. But then she started brushing my hair. I froze and sat there still as could be. I'm not sure there exists a better feeling in the world than someone brushing my hair. She pulled out a pair of scissors, snipped some hair here and there, continued running that glorious comb through my golden locks. And then the haircut was complete (a little too soon in my opinion... I could have sat in that chair all day).
The end product? Quite handsome in front. A catastrophe in back. She gave me a bowl cut in the back and cut it very, very short (three quarters of the way up the back of my head). And, unfortunately, if you're looking at me from the back, I am unable mask a bad haircut with my dashing good looks and piercing blue eyes. All you see is a bad haircut... and my alabaster neck. Luckily Buni fixed the bowl cut a few days later.
Love,
WFT
No comments:
Post a Comment