I had my first boy’s haircut last December. With a no 5 clipper.
I showed my hairdresser-cum-barber (unisex salon) a photo of a guy with a hair style I like and told him to shear away. And shear he did. I, who do not like people touching me or even washing my hair at a hair salon, quite enjoyed the buzzzzzzz sensation of the clipper. No 5 setting. I liked what I saw in the mirror (refer to my new gravatar).
Afterwards, when I walked out of the salon with B, the following conversation ensued:
Me: “Do you like it?”
B: “No, you look stupid. Your stomach is too big for such a short style.”
Me: (Having a vision of an orange with a jelly-tot on top), “Oh.”
Oh, well, pooch loves me, whether I look clipped and buzzed or wild and woolly.
Fast forward two months. I asked B to make an appointment for me at the hairdresser on Saturday, which she did.
Yesterday I said, in a by-the-way sort of tone, “I’m going to ask that he cut my hair the same as in December.”
Me: (Stunned into silence, a while later), “Do you like it that short?”
B: “Yes.” (In an I-mean-it tone of voice)
Will SOMEBODY please write that manual on how a woman’s mind works????