Friday, November 5, 2010


It's not easy having an irish afro. It's even harder finding someone who has the chops to cut it properly. In the 23 years I've been in charge of my own hair, I've only found ONE! lady who had the skills.  Knowing this, and knowing that The Taz has the same hair without the curl (that won't happen until about the 9th grade - or after 16 failed perms), you would think I would be diligent in finding a professional to cut her hair.  It is important to note that she does get regular hair cuts at a real salon. But these appointments are always a month after I have gotten my hands on her and botched what are supposed to be her bangs.

Here's how it happened this week. She is sick. Down and out. Her bangs have been hanging in her eyes for a week now. I started adding it up in my head. The only reason her bangs came out bad all the other times was because she wouldn't sit still. Not because I have shaky hands. No.

So I stared at her for a good twenty minutes. Plotting how I would do it. I'd give her some halloween candy to ensure she was extra still. But let's face facts, she hadn't squirmed in an hour thanks to a pretty good fever. Then I'd be able to section off portions of her hair just like they do at the salon. I'd tie a cloth around her neck too, just like the pro's. Troy will ask me where I took her and how much I had to pay for such a good haircut.

I've done worse.

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