I have never–not once–beautified my daughter’s hair in any way. When it’s daddy-daughter time, her hair is typically a post-apocalyptic mess. Just a big ol’ fuzzy mop. Part of this stems from the fact that my wife usually takes on this daunting hairstyling challenge. The other part I can safely say…
I mean, I’m a man. I might be hairy, but I sure as hell don’t know what to do with any of it. Do I cut it? Do I comb it? Blowdry it a little? I don’t know! And that’s where the fear comes in. We fear what we don’t understand. And I don’t understand hair.
But being a man also means stepping up to the plate and taking on challenges we don’t wish to face. And giving my daughter pigtails was going to be a challenge. So yesterday–finally–I stepped up to that proverbial hairy plate and took a big, meaty swing. Did I hit it out of the park?
Let’s find out.
Behold the aforementioned fuzzy mop. Something needs to be done about that. It’s not the 70s after all.
Since I was going into battle I was going to need a weapon. And these were mine. On the right you have a comb. It’s useful for, uh, combing hair. Or so I hear. The package on the left, however… Well, just what the hell are those things anyway? “Scunci” with umlauts? That’s too much. Just too much for me to handle. So henceforth I will refer to these little devils as “slinkies” instead. Deal with it.
So, okay. I had my comb, my slinkies, and a fuzzy mop to tame. First step accomplished. Second step? Comb that fuzzy mop! Should be easy!
Know what that face means? “Why daddy? Why?” That’s what that face means. Who knew combing a child’s hair would be so difficult? I mean, there were tangles and squishy bits of cheerios in there…what was I to do?!? I had to be a bit rough, right? After all, I was being a MAN. Nothing says manly like slinkies after all. Speaking of…
One’s in! Success! Just look at that craftsmanship. Just look at it. And it only took five scream-and-profanity filled minutes. Amazing. I was a Golden God!
And BOOM! Number two complete! Just marvel at it, will you? Bask in the unevenness! Celebrate the large number of stray hairs I neglected to corral! Experience a bottomless pit of jealousy that you don’t get me to dress your hair every morning! I’ve got a new calling, I’m telling ya. And the best part is…
You can’t even see both pigtails head on! That takes a special gift.
Of course, the real best part is that she was actually smiling. Because there weren’t many to be had during the ordeal. Throughout the process I was waiting for her to jump down and blast a hole through the screen door. But there she was, smiling. Thank god. Her hair may be a mess, but she’s happy.
I’ll take it.
So will I do it again? Will I try to improve on this in my quest to be a world class at-home hairstylist? Sure. Why not. It wasn’t that bad, after all.
Besides, next time I’ll be tackling this little devil instead:
I call it a clipster!