Every other week, often on a Saturday (and often just after he’s finished washing up the brunch dishes) Martin will turn to me and ask me if I’m ready for him.
*smirks*
I respond with a mais oui, and clear some room in the middle of the floor while he retrieves the black case from the bathroom. I pluck the hem of my t-shirt up and quickly pull it over my head, and toss it on the couch. My pants are quick to join it.
He comes near with apparatus in hand, and asks, “Are we taking it all off?”
Of course, I say with a little smile, as I settle into the white toddler chair in the kitchen. I hear the click of his thumb on the button, and the drone of the buzzer fills my ears. I close my eyes, and start to feel the cool clumps falling on my bare shoulders and down my back.
We’ve been doing this for years now, and I still love it when he cuts my hair – his hand runs over my scalp bushing the stray bits away, and he pays close attention to the part in the front that has a natural swirl… he makes sure to leave it even, so it lies flat. He neatens up the back edges quickly, knowing how burning hot the tip of the buzzer is by the end of the job. Then he stands in front of me, eyes surveying my whole head, and he’ll click the button to off and say, “I think you’re done.”
Thanks, Boo… I say. And then I pinch him on the bum.
He runs the shower for me, and I jump in to get cleaned off, and he’ll bring me a cup of coffee if it’s still morning… maybe a beer if it’s past noon. I’ll admit that I sometimes miss the head massage that comes with a salon wash-and-cut, but I’m grateful for this quick means of grooming I can do at home, thanks to my darling husband.
A friend of mine who keeps her baby-fine blonde hair in a very short ‘do once described her haircut as “finding her head” which is just how I feel, too. After years and years (and years) of processing my natural hair in salons, spending countless hours and many, many monies, I’m happy to be out of that trap. I’m so glad I decided to cut it all off eight years ago, and I will never go back.
I finally found my head.
there is a ‘head’ line here no? You’re so hot …love it. and the hair – and the visual.
Thanks, Sara! 🙂
Also, I’m leaving that whole “head” line alone… *snort*
ok very sexy story miss grumble.
No one sports the #1 buzzcut the way you do. Gorgeous chickie. Can we talk about how unpretty I would look? YIKES
I don’t think you could possibly look unpretty, Village. Not once, not ever.
That look works so much better on you than me.
Naw, Jason – you just need some earrings and a little lip gloss. 😉
A) You look gorgeous!
B) You had me thinking all “50 Shades” for a minute there 😉
Hee! Thanks, Jen… and yeah – I hoped to lead everyone down the “50 Shades” way for a moment or two. Drah-mah, you know. *snort*
hair would totally get in the way of your beautiful visage. i would love to be able to pull this off!
Thanks, Julie!! I really love it like this, and I guess it helps that my head shape is pretty even. The first time I cut it was a bit of a crap-shoot though. I was relieved there were no significant craters!!
PS: Your headshot (pardon the pun) in the sidebar is FANTASTIC! Are you going to Blue Mountain?? Hope to see you there.
YES I AM going to see you next month, and I can’t WAIT to meet you at last!!
(And the headshot was taken by my friend Marc Muri last year, who shot a series for “The Kit” – a monthly fashion insert for the National Post. I’m so glad I was able it use it here!)
You are stunning, Tracey, and your description of the haircut was so tender and romantic! Love it.
Awww, thanks Amanda! It is kind of romantic, actually… hee!!