A time window opened up this morning to get to the barbers in town, and get my hair chopped back to a more manageable length (read: a length where I have to do nothing to it at all).
When the staff in the barber shop ask what I want, I invariably say “clippered round the sides and back, and short and scruffy on top”. That’s it. No pictures from magazines. No colours. Just make it kind of neat, and short, so I don’t have to look after it. I’m like zero maintainance – especially living in a house with four women.
Our eldest daughter has mystified me until today. She is generally ready for school half an hour before she leaves, and insists on one or other of us helping her to achieve a “perfect” ponytail – which apparently she cannot do on her own. If she finds any lumps in her hair, the whole thing has to be pulled out and re-done. Once her hair is done, she retreats upstairs, and we had no clue what she did for that next half hour.
Today I found out.
She spends half an hour expertly applying makeup so it doesn’t look like makeup, because of course makeup is not allowed at school. I caught her in the bathroom putting eyeliner on this morning – I happened to be wandering past to find any two socks that vaguely matched, and she had left the door open.
Perhaps it says something about me as a man that I didn’t even notice she has been wearing eyeliner for months – which kind of re-enforcesÂ the commonly held view that women go to the Nth degree to look nice more because of other women, than for men, because we’re ridiculouslyÂ unobservant.
Anyway. Got my hair cut. Can now get in and out of the shower half a minute faster every morning. Job done.