Just The Lovely

In the ultimate act of "recessionista" frugality, I chose to have my 12 year old trim my hair this weekend instead of paying someone upwards of $20 to trim it for me. I was pretty sure Lydia could cut a straight line, and my hair was long enough that if she messed up a little there was room to work with it. I applauded my bravery as I sat down in her kitchen beauty parlor, and resolutely pushed all memories of past  disasters out of my head.

The rest of the story sounded a lot like this:

me:        Lydia, the scissors feel a little high against my back.
Lydia:    Mooooom. I'm cutting it where you told me to.
me:        Ok. Just relax and be precise
Lydia:    Ok. I AM being precise
             (Insert tense silence)
me:        Lydia, make sure you don't cut higher as you go around the back.
Lydia:    Um
             (more tense silence)
me:        Lydia, is it too late for that?
Lydia:    Well it looks really good mom (she says as she kicks a piece of hair that's fallen on the floor)
me:        (insert primal scream as I see the strand is about 5" or 6" long)
Lydia:    (laughter)

Of course, we had to cut it all to match the shortest section, so it's not

even touching my shoulders now.