Ok, first off I don’t normally cut hair, barring the occasional mohawk given in a garage or back patio. MILK enjoys butchering hair into all types of attempted styles, thus her early nickname “The Barber of Seville,” but despite people’s totally unjustified faith in her, she has zero skills in this area. Someone once actually trusted her with a tattoo gun, so her power to enchant with a false sense of ability is real.
Basically we’re both grossly unqualified to handle scissors, that’s a given, but more to the point, neither of us ever learned to communicate with a barber or stylist. As an adult, this has been an unexpected (and sometimes disastrous) challenge.
I credit our mom and grandmother for a long series of 70’s bowl cuts. This was achieved in ten minutes, every four months, with a literal bowl on my head. Seriously when everybody calls you Danny and you have the same…
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