You may wonder what this is a photo of. Well, it’s not my spare merkin … and let’s just clarify, it’s not mine at all. I’ll explain.
I got my hair did this weekend – took the usual four hours to hack through the massive ginger frizz but I’m happy with the outcome … at least until I wash it.
While I was there, I took the opportunity to follow through on one of my numerous ‘threats’ I’ve made to Dexter recently.
I’ve mentioned before how beautifully unique his hair is and how much of a pain it can be looking after it – being mixed race it has tight curls around the hairline and big, European curls through the middle. But it’s a bitch to maintain.
He always moans when it’s time to comb through his hair and bearing in mind I’m fairly gentle and use copious amounts of conditioner, I wasn’t really sure there was any other way round it.
So, I gave him a choice. Either he let me look after his hair (he’s 8 and highly unlikely to look after it himself,) or I’ll shave the damn thing off.
He didn’t think I meant it.
(Cue evil laugh.)
As I was having my hair washed I explained the situation to my hairdresser and reminded Dexter that I’d given him the choice of letting me comb through the, by now, matted hair but that because he’d refused, I was following through with what I had said.
“Right, please shave it off,” I told my hairdresser.
Suffice to say, Dexter’s face was a picture.
“Sure?” my hairdresser asked me.
“Oh yes,” I replied.
Dexter sat down in the chair and I was surprised there were no tears but he was not happy.
Trouble was, my hairdresser couldn’t get the clippers to go through his hair! It was so thick and matted in two places at the back that it just wasn’t going to happen.
Dexter looked remarkably pleased with himself.
“That’s OK, you can use your scissors,” I told the hairdresser.
To cut a long story short (pardon the pun,) my hairdresser decided to ask the Saturday girl to condition Dexter’s hair instead to see if it would soften it up enough to be able to shave it.
It literally made no difference at all.
By the time my hair was finished, Dexter was still sat on the sofa with conditioner dripping down his back and so I decided to take him home and finish the job off myself.
Even at this point, he still thought he’d gotten away with it.
We got home, I put him in the bath and got my big kitchen scissors out. And then I began hacking cutting. It was like human topiary. I shaped and I snipped. Cut a bit off here, and even up a bit there. I cut the main mats out and actually, underneath, it really wasn’t too bad.
So … a lesson was learnt on Saturday. Do not mess with your mother Dexter.
I ALWAYS mean what I say 🙂