Today was the day. The head-shaving day.
I got so anxious at work that I had to leave early. I made myself sick to my stomach thinking about my hair. I really do like my hair.
After some wine and chili, I went upstairs with Jay and Alex. The first cut was rather dramatic. By the end I was just annoyed at how long it took. I had a lot of hair that had to be taken off and it was not coming easily. Alex took over the cutting situation. Jay had to finish the job.
I was in charge of all Joe’s haircuts. One summer I carved a mohowk into his head for our week in the outer banks. I kept it trim sometimes. Other times it got real wily. He had his clippers and for all the years we were together, he was part of the Dr. Amy special haircuts program. There were others on the program. Including my dad once. But just once. (I mean, it was just one small patch). After Joe passed, I moved his clippers with me. They went on to cut more hair and then eventually they got put into the top of the bathroom closet. As with a lot of weird items, I have an emotional attachment to something that really needed to be thrown away.
I cut off my hair with his clippers.
Z also sported this look for a while. Three Haircuts day was a part of that. With little exception, she lived with and passed away with short hair. She would have loved every minute of the current situation.
With all of the haircuts I’ve given looming just inside the clippers, I made the plunge. I drank from my Mary Poppins mug, I had the balance of my family with me in the bathroom. It was a group effort.
I could almost hear Z behind me, giddy with excitement. It wasn’t all Z. It was Alex, giddy with excitement for the change. Alex and Z. And Joe. And all of the rock-and-roll in my life cheering into the universe around me while Jay finished what I could not.
0 stars. Would not recommend.