My Full Hands

I don't remember my Dad getting a professional haircut. Ever. My mother mastered the technique and to this day still cuts my father's hair. She knows one hair style, and that's the one she gives my dad and gave my brothers until they were old enough to protest.
I watched her many times giving hair cuts to my dad and brothers on a stool in the middle of the kitchen. I figured I could do it too, and my soon to be husband was brave enough to be a Guinea pig.

Now, before you look at this first hair cut I did on my DH while we were dating, I must tell you I did NOT give him a bowl cut, or a step, or whatever you may want to call the style.
I'll admit it wasn't beauty school quality, but for a girl who learned by watching her mother (who had never been to hair college), and whose only hair cutting experience was cutting chunks of hair from her own head behind the couch as a small child, it wasn't so bad. My blending techniques left a little to be desired, but I was pleased with the cut and thought George could still go out in public when I was finished with him.

However, a friend of his (who is never to be forgiven) thought I was trying to give him the look below, with a line across the back of his head from temple to temple, and "fixed" it for him. I was mortified, mostly that George thought it was bad enough to need fixing, and that he let his friend fix it for him! I promise it looked better before his buddy took the clippers to his head.

So here is the picture circa 1994:

And here is the haircut I am giving him fourteen years later, notice how he isn't half bald?