January 24, 2011
As an honorary gay man, I've taken it upon myself to assist in the styling of my daughters hair. Sadly, I care about her hair and fashion almost as much as my wife does. How much do I care you ask? Well lets just say I care enough that I buzzed my beautiful daughters head when she was just six weeks old because I was convinced that her hair would grow out slow and uneven if I didn't.
Now I figure my wife does her hair 95% of the time, so it's that 5% that I'm concerned about. So far I've been pretty lucky in the fact that Z's hair has remained short enough that I've been able to be semi successful in milking 21 months worth of the missionary comb over. Her hair is waaaay to long for that now. So rather than having my daughter grow up and look back in anger at pictures of herself as an eight-year-old girl with cute clothes and a comb over, I am taking preventative measures into my own hands. My wife has agreed to teach me a thing or two about a thing or two in regards to styling female hair.
Part of all this stems from unfortunate memories I have as a child watching helplessly as my father was forced in emergency situations to style my sister's hair. There was an unmistakable look of sheer panic, fear, and hopelessness in my poor father's face as he aimlessly did his best. Even at that tender age I knew something was definitely wrong, when he was finished It looked as though the east wind the prophet Isaiah once spoke of had landed directly on her head and was secured in place with half a can of Aqua Net.
Below is a picture of my sister and I from 1987 that I've appropriately named "Hey Celeste Can I Guess Who Styled Your Hair?"
Anyway, I will be giving random updates to show my progress. So without further adieu here is my first attempt at styling my daughters hair. As you can tell by the look on her face she loves it.
Hey Daisy can I guess who styled your hair?