It was a bit amateurish at best, but considering the COVID19 thing and unable to get a haircut, I decided to let Wife Patti cut my golden locks.

How difficult can it be to trim your beloved’s hair? Besides, I could save $20 bucks and a trip to the hair stylist, even after the reopening of businesses.

Weeks passed by, then months.  Her first attempt at cutting/trimming my hair looked half-way decent, nothing worth a tip.

Wife Patti was so excited by her first attempt and quasi-success at hair cutting, she decided to buy yet a better hair clipper set.

She gleamed with glee when it arrived and anxiously awaited her next attack on my head. This past Sunday, the event arrived. She carefully removed all the detailed attachments, placing them gingerly across the kitchen table.

“You did read all the directions”, I asked cautiously. “Yes, of course”, she responded. Like an old pro she picked up one of the electric clipper’s attachments and struggled to combine the unit. Once again I quizzed, “You did read the instructions?”. She assured him she read the directions on the old unit and they were probably the same.

She blew off my concerns and began the  procedure. “I am going to shorten the top more than last time,” she proclaimed with an air of complete confidence.

There were no mirrors present to witness the next 10 minutes. The buzzing sound never stopped as I witnessed clumps of my precious stands fall to the floor. One, two and even three inches of hair fell like leaves off a tree. I became a bit concerned.

“There, I think I have done a pretty good job”, she proclaimed. I went into the bathroom to survey my head territory. “What have you done?!” I screamed in complete horror.

The woman had all but buzz cut the front, leaving tufts of hair sticking up in the back. I looked like a character out of a Dr. Seuss book.

Once she gazed upon my damaged head she realized it was nothing short of an abomination. I quickly called Son, Devin, begging for a rescue. Upon his arrival all I could hear were laughs of pity coming from my offspring.

Wife Patti tried to recut, reshape the horribly disfigured mop. It was all too obvious to all in attendance, that only a complete buzz cut would rescue any dignity for the victim. By the time she was done, it was somewhere between bald headed actor Yul Brynner and some over zealous drill sergeant.

“You knew I was not a pro at this,” she proclaimed in her attempt at innocence. “It will eventually grow back”, she stated with a smile.

Luckily, I almost never leave the house. Now, I will never leave the house - without a hat.

I knew I should have never trusted that woman. I thought her family had money, but that turned out to be a bust 50 years ago. 

She told me she had solid teeth, but decades later and after $20-$30 grand of input, I should have realized her maiden name was of English background and we all know about English teeth. I should have called police for felony assault with hair clipper, but I already had enough laughter and embarrassments for the day.

The new clippers are now tucked away, never to be sought, or mentioned ever again. Will I return to the old ways of going out to get a haircut? The answer is simple, but firm, YES! 

But it will probably not be necessary for a long, long time