Overconfidence Causes Baldness

I've often been accused of overconfidence.  I'm one of those people who looks at a piece of jewelry, furniture, clothing, or a particular entree', and immediately thinks "I can do that."   This thought is immediately followed by a second thought: "It can't be that hard."  This tendency is genetic, because I grew up hearing my father actually say these exact same sentences.  Overconfidence can be a great trait for a person to have.  It can make you try new adventures that you might never, ever be brave enough to attempt, like trying out for a play. 

Overconfidence can be not so great.  Not everything that looks easy is actually that simple.  Talent takes hard work and skill.  Some people have dedicated their entire lives to making particular sports look easy, for instance, and I'm certainly never going to think that I can dunk a basketball like Michael Jordan or play soccer like Lionel Messi.  That would just be stupid. But my tiny brain hasn't quite figured out which activities look simple due to talent and hard work, and those which I might actually be able to do.  So occasionally, my tendency toward overconfidence gets me into trouble. Especially when I am trying very hard to impress a person.

It was 2000.  My then-fiance' was going through chemo(yes, we've dealt with cancer before), and his wonderfully curly hair became too hot to bear.  Larry asked me to cut it for him, using these clippers that he bought with an adjustable guard.  The commercials regarding these clippers made everything look so simple. You adjusted the guard to a certain number, say '3', and went to work.  The lady in the commercial clipped her way through her entire family of eight in the span of 30 seconds!

Easy, right?  That's what I said.  I didn't even blink, because I thought it would be so simple.  I'd watched the commercial.  How hard could it be?   I was very overconfident. 

I wasn't even nervous.

Larry sat in a chair in the back yard of our duplex, and began chatting about something.  I plugged in the clippers, set them to '2', and turned them on.  Confidently, I began with the back of Larry's head.  And promptly shaved down to scalp right there in the back of his head.  A rectangular strip of pink skin glared at me as the sun hit it.

I was horrified. 

I first looked at the clippers in accusation. That wasn't a '2'!!!  I then looked down at the hank of hair that had fallen to the ground, willing it to float back up and reattach.  It did not respond to my will.  I panicked a little. What had I done?

Other people would have just kept going. Other people would have been certain that they could fix their error, or at least cover it up.  Not me. I had already hit skin; images of how bloody head wounds can be floated through my brain. Nor could I fix this particular issue with a comb over of any kind.  It was time to face the music, so I began the time honored tradition of accepting responsibility and being accountable.

"Oops."

"What do you mean, 'Oops'?" Larry stopped talking and turned around hurriedly.  I stood there looking sheepish, the clippers now held behind me. 

"Um, I cut it shorter than I was supposed to?" I offered hesitantly.  People have strange relationships with their hair.  Would this be a deal breaker in our relationship?   What if he was angry?  What if he decided that an overconfident woman was not the kind of wife he wanted, all because of my error.  I winced a little, in anticipation of the big blow up.

Larry just stared at me.  I sighed.  It was time to be me, and just be frank.

"You have a bald spot now."  I said. "I screwed up. We need to go find someone else to fix it."

To my surprise, Larry took the news rather well.  He even laughed a little about it, reminding me that he had wanted his hair cut short so his head would be cooler.  Such a sweetie!  We had to drive around town a little to find someone who would "fix" my mistake. After they stopped laughing, of course.  I also had to deal with an entire salon of stylists pointing and laughing at me while Larry sat in the chair.  I took it all in stride.

"Not so easy, is it, now?"  They teased, and I had to agree. 

Lollygagging

I am decisive about many things in my life.  It helps that most of the time, an answer is immediately apparent.  Child is sick?  Go to doctor.  Rip in pants?  Don't wear those pants.   Coffee or tea?  Coffee, followed by tea.  $47.50 for a pair of flip flops?  Hell no.   But some decisions that are easy for most people are difficult for me.  I waffle, completely indecisive, about the silliest things, and it may take me weeks to make a decision one way or another, and then another six months to decide whether I am actually happy with my decision.  It drives me nuts, but I cannot seem to help myself.

I need a haircut.

My hair is now so long that it only does one thing well.  Unfortunately, that one thing is to hang flatly as close to my head as possible.  Since I have a moon-pie face(which I think means that my face is as round as the moon, and I like pie, both very true),  the very last thing that all the fashion magazines advise is that my hair hang flatly anywhere.  Those fashionista-types insist that all hair be shiny, silky, and luxuriously full at all times. I am on board with those concepts, as long as I don't actually have to work at it, which is where the fashion magazines and I part ways.

Who hired these people to tell us what to do again?  Nobody has hours to spend on their hair!  If they do, that person is obviously single and childless. When I was single and childless, I often did spend weeks getting my hair to look perfect, but now? Pfft! I get approximately twenty minutes to myself in the morning to shower, dress, and do my hair, with a minute or two to slap on some eye shadow.  I just have one child; I am sure that the time allotted for grooming is reduced for multiple children.

My hair is longer than it needs to be, and I need to get it cut.

I am not sure what I want.  I know what I don't want--a bob.  As far as I've seen, everyone and her grandmother has that haircut.  And why not?  It's an easy to care for haircut, and it looks fetching on most people.  Except I don't want to pay someone to cut my hair like every other person out there.  I want to look like myself.

So my hair is longer than it needs to be and I want to get a haircut, but I don't know what kind of haircut I want, except not a bob.

And not too short.  I know those damn fashion magazines say that women with fine hair should keep it cut short, and that women with moon-pie faces should wear their hair short, and fat chicks should wear their hair short, etc.  I don't like how I look in short hair.  Anything shorter than chin length, and I look like that Alfred P. Neuman guy from Mad. I am scary enough, thank you!

I want a haircut that is not a bob, that is not shorter than chin length, that does not make me look like Alfred P. Neuman or scary in any way.  I'll settle for not scaring small children.  And this haircut must take less than five minutes to fix up in the morning, including the drying. 

I will likely make a decision about all this somewhere around the end of 2015.  Maybe.