Sunday, February 17, 2013

Samson is Feeling Weak

The Pony has been growing out his hair. Not so much as a fashion statement as a statement that he hates having his hair cut. I let him go as long as I could. I will stop short of comparing him, in the manner of True Grit's Mattie Ross of near Dardanelle in Yell County, a less-than-tactful young lass, to a man of Texas, who cultivates his hair like lettuce.

The Pony has his father's hair. Well, hair like his father had when he HAD hair. It is a mixed blessing, much like that of Theodore "Beaver" Cleaver, who inherited the freckle-prone Bronson skin from his mother. And thankfully not her penchant for pearls. When The Pony's hair gets longer than a couple of inches, it waves. It kinks. It curls like a springy perm that Mike Brady paid good money for before flying off to Hawaii for his boys to find that bad-luck Tiki idol in a cave. Because The Pony showers at night, his hair is stretched and bedraggled by morning. The remedy is a quick scrunching of fingers dripping with water. That tightens it back into regular curls. The Pony's mane had grown so long that it came down past his eyes when unkinked. I decreed that he was getting it cut over this three-day weekend.

Hold on for a minute while I dab my eyes with my dainty, initial-embroidered hanky. Pass me the smelling salts. I am beside myself. My actions are akin to Pony abuse. It is enough to change my philosophy of spare the clippers and spoil The Pony's shot at normalcy. What that haircuttress did to my little Pony was a crime. A low-down, dirty, crying-shame crime.

We called ahead to check in. Never mind that the wait at that time was two minutes. It takes us twenty to get to town. You never know when a bus of Duggars might pull up for a round of shearing bill-footed by TLC. We arrived, parked, and elbowed a little girl and her mother out of our way. The butcher was none other than the Janice Dickinson lookalike who does such a fine job on my own tresses. I was not worried. I knew The Pony was in capable, experienced hands. I sat down to read a book.

Well. How was I to know that Janice was off her meds and on her drugs? I listened with a deaf ear to the small talk between the two. Thought nothing of it. Then I sensed that they were done, and looked up to see my poor Pony with a moon face like eyes and nose painted on a cue ball. Oh, the equinity! My little Pony had a forehead the size of the Mendenhall Glacier. And it was receding. I did not want to make him feel bad. Nor Janice herself, since she would no doubt be cutting my hair at a future date. "Whoa! It sure is short!"

As we went out the door, I said, "How come you didn't tell her it was getting too short?"

"I couldn't SEE it! I have to take my glasses off, remember? So I couldn't see in the mirror how short it was. Until I put on my glasses when it was done. And it's not even straight!"

"You're right. At least there are no holes in the back, like they did to Genius twice. The back looks good.. It will grow out. That's what my mom always told me when I got a bad haircut. Don't be surprised if kids say something about it at school."

"I know. If they do, I can show them your driver's license picture, and then I won't feel so bad."


  1. What a selfless mother, to allow her son to carry around a sliver of a monstrosity (your license) to make himself feel better.

    You are surely going to be nominated for the Mother of the Year award.

  2. I'm sorry, I stopped reading after the first paragraph to write this. I promise I will read it all. But anyone who quotes True Grit with that efficiency is probably my soul mate and I just thought I should warn you of that.

  3. You didn't stomp your foot, laugh and snort, gasp and gag? I am proud of you. Now, you must get your mug shot back.

  4. I think you'll remember this far longer than your young man.

  5. Oh the HUMANITY! Not another one suffering through a bad hair spring! My sincere sympathies to Samson. Make sure both of you have a way to keep an eye on Delilah next time you visit. Or hope Jim Bob, Michelle and the brood are there ahead of you to slow things down so you'll have time to re-think.

  6. Sioux,
    Actually, I have not yet received my monstrosity, and carry around the 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper that hateful wench handed me on Val-beating day. Why The Pony thought he would be carrying it with him in his trapper-keeper is beeeeeyond me.

    But I WILL heartily accept the nomination, to Not-Heaven with those who say the honor lies in simply being nominated. I will leave no stone unturned, no butt unkicked, no minor detail overlooked in my campaign to WIN. Now if Genius will only keep his mouth shut about that time he fell off the bathroom sink when I turned to throw a Q-tip in the wastebasket...

    If you are also a connoisseur of Seinfeld, ER, 9 to 5, and A League of Their Own, we will get along swimmingly.

    I am ashamed to reveal (unlike a LADY, who reveals NOTHING) that I could not refrain from making comments such as, "UFOs can spot your forehead like a beacon," and "At least your frontal lobe won't overheat, having lost that insulating layer of hair." The Pony was not amused. In fact, he politely requested that I cease and desist.

    I certainly hope you're correct. He's planning to be a writer. I would not want to end up in his manuscript. Whoever came up with that "turnabout is fair play" nonsense needs to be hogtied and given this exact haircut.

    We almost snuck by Delilah. She was sweeping up a pile of hair (prophetic, perhaps) and didn't hear us come in. When she DID meet us at the check-in counter, she interrogated us as to where we came from.

    I am a fan of the Duggar TV show. Sadly, I hold little hope for their intervention. It seems as though Michelle uses a latter-day Flowbee to cut Jim Bob's hair. No doubt the older girls shear the rest of the brood. There's a reason they all have the same haircut.

  7. That driver's license of yours is turning out to be quite useful. Besides, is there really such a thing as a bad haircut these days? I don't think so based on what I see at the mall.

  8. Stephen,
    Unlike me, my driver's license gets around. Your rhetorical question might better be phrased, "Is there really any such thing as a haircut these days?"

    I am SO tired of seeing students peering through a waterfall of tresses. It's a wonder they don't give themselves whiplash slinging their heads from side to side in order to get that Rhoda-Morgenstern-beaded-curtain-like swoop of hair to lay just right.

  9. Thanks for the laugh at Pony's expence!! I needed it.

    My youngest (known to be outspoken) once refused to pay for a haircut because, even though she warned them about her hairs' ability to shrink when dry, the stylist cut her bangs too short. The manager told her they would call the police if she refused to pay,so she paid them, then stood in the parking lot and warned all those who would listen about her experience until the manager came out and gave her money back so she would leave.

    Nobody gets one over on my girl!