Cut backs

Bored and overheated tonight, I got my wife to have a go at my head with the clippers. This was quite a stressful experience, because the last thing you want late at night is a woman maniacally laughing while waving a electric cutting device around your head. She’d gone all out at the front of my head and then not tidied up at the back, leaving me with the kind of awful mullet beloved of ice hockey players and 1980s footballers. After some protestations, she evened things up a bit, but the problem with home shaving jobs is that unless you cut all the way to the bone, there are always uneven tufts to clear up, wisps of hair that still protrude, four inches long, from the sides of my head. Maybe I’ll go to the barber tomorrow to tidy them up. Or maybe I’ll be used to looking like a raving madman by then.

Still, something had to be done. The ungainly mop I had on top of my head was just too much to deal with, particularly in the damp heat of Singapore. This is what I used to look like.

I’ll leave it to your imagination what I look like now.

It’s been about six months since I had a hair cut, so I suppose it was well due. It’s a shame I’m not racing tomorrow, as I assume the weight loss from removing that hair would have been worth a personal best time. I just have to wait until I trim my beard off (after Destroyer’s birthday, in less than three months’ time…)

One response to “Cut backs”

  1. […] So anyway, I now have six new polo shirts – four blue, one charcoal grey and one in maroon that my wife bullied me into buying. I have bad memories of maroon (it was the colour of the blazers we had to wear at secondary school for four years) but infuriatingly, having put it on it seems to suit me really well, demonstrating that my wife knows far better than I do how to make me look good. (Unless she’s got a set of clippers in her hand.) […]

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