You've Got to be Joking Me!

I was never cut out to be a beautician. I have known that for a long time. But here is the proof that came like a slap in the face this morning (P.S. This is AFTER I tried to make it better).

Good look, huh? I cried, and then we laughed, and then I cried some more. I didn't fully listen to Dug when he asked me to do the back of his hair (aka his hair line) and I was dumb enough to not check what size blade was on the clippers. I just went straight for it and before I knew it, there was a large, bald rectangle on the back of his head. Then this was the convo that followed:

Me: Oh my goodness. You've got to be joking me. Babe, I just cut your hair. I'm gonna cry.
Dug: (He stops and then reaches to touch the back of his hair) I thought you were joking around with me but I heard the hair cut. (Starts laughing).
Me: (Crying/laughing as I sit in the corner on the bathroom floor) Babe, I'm really really sorry. I can't believe this. You have to wear a hat all the time and we can't go to church with you like that!

Dug: (Still laughing) Breeze, it's fine. Just cut my hair shorter to match better but just be careful this time.

Me: (Wincing because I like his hair longer and scared to try again) Are you okay? Aren't you mad at me?
Dug: No, I think you having to walk around with me like this is enough of a punishment. And I don't have to see it, everyone else does. Plus, we will save money on shampoo and I won't have to worry about doing my hair now.

Clearly I am more devastated then he is. Once the shock wears off hopefully I will think it's as funny as he does. Maybe I might even come to enjoy his sweet bald rectangle with a diagonal in the middle.

NOT.

Happy Sunday. :)

Me after I butchered my hair (hence the big bow)

My poor mom cried too.

The tradition continues...