Last night Matt asked me to help him shave his head. (Shaving off his hair is a last day of school tradition for he and Jake.) I said "Um, no."
He asked "Why not?"
I said, "Do you not remember when I helped you last year?"
Last year was the first and last time that I helped him. He had handed me the razor with the blade guard on the shortest setting and instructed me to "just start at the back and run the razor in rows over my head." I did what he said, but I have notoriously bad hand-eye coordination or WHATEVER, and by the time I was finished, his head kind of looked like this:
I had shaven him completely bald in spots, different lengths in others, and then just for good measure, I had left a few sporadic tufts of long hair to complete this stellar look.
It's pretty sad when you have to call a hairdresser to fix something that even Brittney Spears managed to do perfectly well all by herself. Not only that, but there were probably a lot of Paparazzi bulbs flashing in Brittney's face, so it's likely she shaved her head blind. I had two hands and two eyes, and I still botched it all up.
Anyway, apparently Matt didn't remember any of this, so in order to not seem like a jerk, I had to start coming up with legitimate reasons for why I shouldn't shave his head. The best one that came to mind was that in Kindergarten, my teacher Mrs. Stone, put me in the low reading group based solely on my ineptitude with scissors. This was totally offensive to me at the time, because I was a good reader. I knew I didn't belong with all the nose-picking babies didn't even know their ABC's. However, back then, poor fine-motor skills were considered a sign of a slow learner, and there was no doubt about it.... the jagged rips and tears that zig-zagged across the dotted lines of my cut-and-paste worksheets screamed THIS CHILD WILL NEED RESOURCE SERVICES.
Eventually my teacher realized that I was a good reader and that my lack of small motor skills wasn't a sign of anything other than the fact that I'm just really, really bad with scissors. So, she moved me up to the advanced reader group, where I began my lifelong love of reading, as well as a lifelong feeling of self-righteousness that washes over me whenever I recall this particular memory. (Seriously. Me in a low reading group? The woman could have at least apologized.)
Anyway, I explained all this to Matt, but when I looked up to see if he was convinced, I saw that he was asleep.
I'm taking that to mean that I'm off the hook.
However, I'm telling you all this because I am still terrible with scissors. I know this about myself, yet that didn't stop me from attempting to trim my own bangs today. They'd gotten really long and I told myself that it'd be okay, that I'd just follow my brow line from one eye to the next and that it'd all be lovely when I was finished.
And now I'm rocking' Jim Carey's look in Dumb and Dumber.
The worst part about all this is (besides explaining it to my hairdresser), is that Mrs. Stone was right all along.
I am a slow learner.
He asked "Why not?"
I said, "Do you not remember when I helped you last year?"
Last year was the first and last time that I helped him. He had handed me the razor with the blade guard on the shortest setting and instructed me to "just start at the back and run the razor in rows over my head." I did what he said, but I have notoriously bad hand-eye coordination or WHATEVER, and by the time I was finished, his head kind of looked like this:
It's pretty sad when you have to call a hairdresser to fix something that even Brittney Spears managed to do perfectly well all by herself. Not only that, but there were probably a lot of Paparazzi bulbs flashing in Brittney's face, so it's likely she shaved her head blind. I had two hands and two eyes, and I still botched it all up.
Anyway, apparently Matt didn't remember any of this, so in order to not seem like a jerk, I had to start coming up with legitimate reasons for why I shouldn't shave his head. The best one that came to mind was that in Kindergarten, my teacher Mrs. Stone, put me in the low reading group based solely on my ineptitude with scissors. This was totally offensive to me at the time, because I was a good reader. I knew I didn't belong with all the nose-picking babies didn't even know their ABC's. However, back then, poor fine-motor skills were considered a sign of a slow learner, and there was no doubt about it.... the jagged rips and tears that zig-zagged across the dotted lines of my cut-and-paste worksheets screamed THIS CHILD WILL NEED RESOURCE SERVICES.
Eventually my teacher realized that I was a good reader and that my lack of small motor skills wasn't a sign of anything other than the fact that I'm just really, really bad with scissors. So, she moved me up to the advanced reader group, where I began my lifelong love of reading, as well as a lifelong feeling of self-righteousness that washes over me whenever I recall this particular memory. (Seriously. Me in a low reading group? The woman could have at least apologized.)
Anyway, I explained all this to Matt, but when I looked up to see if he was convinced, I saw that he was asleep.
I'm taking that to mean that I'm off the hook.
However, I'm telling you all this because I am still terrible with scissors. I know this about myself, yet that didn't stop me from attempting to trim my own bangs today. They'd gotten really long and I told myself that it'd be okay, that I'd just follow my brow line from one eye to the next and that it'd all be lovely when I was finished.
And now I'm rocking' Jim Carey's look in Dumb and Dumber.
What do you think? Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, right?
I am a slow learner.
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