Dave has been really diggin’on my mohawk, which is why he was bestowed the great honor of touching it up.
(Well, that & being flat broke)
For those catching up: here’s the look I’m goin’ for…
Dave was plugging along, everything was going great.
The cut was perfect.
He took the guard off.
He was just gloating over his work while he was edging out the sides.
And then I hear…
“Oh, no, Grace. Oh no. I took the guard off, I wasn’t thinking, oh no. Oh crap. I messed it up.”
Me: “what? What do you mean by ‘you.messed.it.up?’
Dave: “I’m sorry babe, I wasn’t thinking.”
Me: “you don’t NOT think when you are cutting a black woman’s hair with clippers and no guard, are you serious?!?!?!”
Dave: “It’s not sooooo bad. *pause* Oh…well, okay, it’s sort of bad. But don’t worry, I can fix it!”
Me: Oh. my. gosh. Just let me see the damage.
Dave: “Are you going to blog about this?”
Me: “Sorry babe, I have to. It’s the only redeeming thing about this catastrophe.”
Dave: Well, you just be sure you let them know it’s not because I’m white! It’s because I’m absent-minded.
Me: “Baby. Let’s just face it. It’s because of both.”
Dave: *sigh* Let’s just take the pictures for your blog & then fix it. Man! I was doing so good!
Me: And it’s the LAST time you’ll ever do “so good.”
Dave: Wait a minute, why aren’t you more mad? Is it because your going to blog about it?
Me: pretty much. Yep.
LUCKILY he ‘stopped thinking’ while working in the back as opposed to a big gaping flesh spot on the side of my head.
After the “fix,”…
The spiky up-do was Dave’s idea.
(I am still in shock over how much he loves this crazy hairstyle on me).