My Husband, The Hairdresser
Yesterday, I was a tad late getting ready for church. I jumped in the shower, and then raced to my makeup table. Now those of you who know me know I don’t wear makeup hardly ever. However, for church, I “put my face on.”
Once I’d done that, my wet hair had to be tamed. Blow dryer and brush. Spritz with hair spray and move on to clothes.
As I’m driving to church, Fisherman and I had this discussion:
ME: I forgot to look at the back of my head. (You KNOW there will be people who have to stare at the back of your head in church!) I’m going to look to the left and you look at my hair. Does it look okay?
FISHERMAN: Looks fine. It’s a little puffy here.
He begins to flatten the little puff I have put at the crown of my hair
ME: Hey! Stop that. It’s supposed to be a little puffy there.
FISHERMAN: Oh. Well, if I had a hairbrush and a squirt bottle of water I could flatten it out for me.
ME: It’s not supposed to be flat on my head.
FISHERMAN: Just trying to help.
I think he need to keep his day job…Fishing!