Sandwiched
He had been postponing it for months but it felt like we had been arguing about it for years. I’m talking about The Haircut for my youngest son, Jacob.
I’m capitalizing this because ever since Jacob’s hair went from straight to wild and wavy at age 14, getting him to cut off even an inch has been a challenge. But since he works in a restaurant, long hair isn’t an option unless he wears a hairnet. Teenage boys DO NOT do hairnets.
Recently, though, Jacob’s patience with his longer, out-of-control locks was waning. He wanted to make a drastic change to something more manageable, but was nervous.
I had showed him a picture of my young friend Andrew’s haircut and last week he decided to go for it. We figured if he didn’t like it, there was time for it to grow out a bit before school started. I was thrilled as I watched the ever-growing pile of hair fall to the floor and loved the final result.
Jacob, however, did not.
While our stylist did cut his hair pretty much like the picture, Jacob wanted it longer on top. He left to go to a friend’s house that evening in a huff and ready to wear a baseball cap for the next four weeks.
At first I was floored. He looked more mature and you could see his handsome face better (yep, I’m biased.) Why was he so upset?
But then I remembered my own experience five years ago when I got a haircut that everyone said they liked but left me miserable. Sure, it looked okay, but it wasn’t what I wanted, and I literally marked the calendar to commemorate an eighth of an inch of growth every week until it grew to something decent.
I also recalled an even worse experience 35 years ago when I got a haircut that was COMPLETELY not what I wanted AND looked bad! I was a teenager with braces, acne, glasses, and a back brace for scoliosis. When you looked up the word “awkward” in the dictionary back then, my picture was featured. After all this time, I feel confident enough to share it with you all. You’re welcome.
Photo provided
I had showed the stylist a picture of what I wanted, not realizing she was looking at the wrong photo on the page. Since I wore glasses back then and not contacts, I couldn’t see what she was doing until it was too late. I was mortified. My mom said, “I walked in with a girl and came out with a boy.” Despite her memory not being the best today, Mom remembers THAT story like it was yesterday. Great.
When Jacob came home that evening, I told him I completely understood where he was coming from.
“I know it looks good, Son, but I also realize it’s not what you wanted.” He felt better, especially when I showed him my disastrous haircut from when I was close to his age.
He’s feeling okay now and so do I, especially since there’s a little “1/8” marked on every Tuesday in our main calendar for the next couple of months.