A Hair Cut

When I was a sophomore in college I came home for a break and some how convinced my sister to let me cut her hair. She had long hair reaching down midway on her back. “Come on, it will be cheaper then letting someone else do it…” She never should have let me even attempt it. I ended cutting way more off then she wanted and couldn’t finish the job properly due to the fact that I was giggling so hard that I was unable to stand. “I was saving that for locks for love!” She yelled. It took another 6 months before she could cut her hair and has never let me near her with a pair of scissors.

Steve had been in Colorado for almost three weeks and didn’t seem to shave the entire time. He came home last week with a bushy face of hair. So bushy that I can’t stand to have any part of my body touch his face for more then three seconds before it becomes to itchy to bear. Yesterday we were lying on the couch enjoying a day off when I talked him into letting me trim his beard. “Come on, it’s too long, and you are going to do it any way.”


This is how much hair I cut off his face.

I repeated the giggling act and in the end Steve had a bare spot on his face where I cut too close.