My new haircut

I’m supposed to meet a group of Ministry of Finance officials next week and I need to get a hair cut. I have a lot of hair. Like really a lot. While many men my age worry about hair loss and some already are half-way to Britney Speardom, I’m just getting more shaggy. It grows long and it grows wide. Like a thick and well fertilized Wimbledon lawn.

It’s very difficult to cut my hair if you want to do it well and give it a style, but it’s easy if you’re in a hurry — you just mow it off. Yet if you just mow it, why pay someone to do it? Even a six-year old can do that! Consequently, I asked Yrsa, my six year old, if she could have a go. Not one to pass up such an opportunity, she quickly took out her toy scissors and set to work. “Do you have any previous experience?” I asked. “Pappa, don’t you know, I love cutting things.” And of course she does. She cuts things all day long. Anything and everything — paper, doll’s hair, student essays, big sisters’ clothes. She’s a cuttomaniac.

Still I was amazed at her seriousness of purpose. She focused on getting the length even all over my head, stuck it out even through the boring bits in the back, and she even did fancy cuts around the ears like they do in real salons. “Isn’t that a bit short?” I asked occasionally. “Shhh, pappa,” she replied, “I know what I’m doing.” Funny thing is, she did.

My secret plan was to take the razor to the whole thing and undo the damage she had inflicted, but looking at it afterwards I decided there was no need. Apart from a small spot in the back where it really is a bit short, it looks great. I’m already getting compliments from people at work. I’m sure the officials at the Ministry of Finance in Taipei will like it too.