Hair the Musical

Not quite, unless you count me humming away as I chopped Fahim’s hair.

All without scissors.

What? Yeah, that’s right. No scissors.

Should I preface this with the list of all the things that’ve been broken or otherwise destroyed since arriving in Sri Lanka? Yeah, I think so. Okay, bob, here we go. . .

  • 12" teflon frying pan – left it on the heat too long without adequate liquid. It then bubbled – literally – and then the bubbles started popping, and then the teflon peeled. Yum.
  • Coconut spoon. Although, let me be honest here – it wasn’t made with durability in mind. One of the flimsy nails holding the handle to the spoon came loose, then the other one, and we had bowl separation – sorta like saucer separation with the Enterprise.
  • the mop. Strictly by using it. The handle was held into the plastic thingy by a nail, which ended up ripping the plastic. Not of durable construction.
  • lid to the food storage container. Made from Melmac, Alf’s home planet, and I dropped the lid and it developed a crack. Yup. Definitely my fault.
  • the melmac spoon – the one that’s severely blistered from using it to get food out of boiling oil. Another one my fault. Oh, sooooo my fault.
  • honey bottle. This sorta doesn’t entirely count, but sorta does. It was a plastic bottle, and I poured nearly boiling water into it to get the rest of the honey out, and the plastic then shrank. But it’s still usable – cuz everything here is used over and over again.
  • the broom. Although that one wasn’t me – it was Fahim. He broke it chasing away a stray cat from Oberon’s cat food. Seriously. It was fun to watch, too, by the way.
  • mosquito net – also not my fault. It’s from Oberon clawing at the mossie net and leaving holes in it that, even though Obie did it, I have to fix. His non-opposable thumb isn’t really capable of using a needle and thread.
  • Fahim’s beard trimmer/razor thingy. Battery operated and required charging. I accidentally plugged it straight into the 220 volt power bar instead of the adapter thingy. It then fizzled and went *smoosh*. Dead.


Well. That’s a pretty impressive list, wouldn’t you say?

The last one is the only one relevant to this conversation. Fahim ended up buying another hair trimmer that he uses for beard/moustache/whatever, and when I begged Fahim for scissors to cut my hair, he not-so-gently (Hah! More like mocked/cajoled/mocked) reminded me that I could use the hair trimmer to cut my hair. OH! OF COURSE I CAN!

I mean, seriously, yes, he could get me scissors, but will he? Not likely. So make do with this instead.

Fahim also wanted his hair cut – the ends are getting dry and damaged. The last time he had a hair cut was a few weeks or a month before I came to Sri Lanka. Me? Yeah, about the same time frame. I managed to trim my bangs anyway, but the rest of my hair was getting long.

This morning, after Fahim takes his shower, he asks me if I’d cut it today, and how long would it take? 15-20 minutes at the outside, I say. I’m allowing for a difficult patient. 🙂

Fahim has long curly hair – I think you mostly all know that. He only needs it cut straight across the bottom. An easy cut. Added to that the fact that it’s curly, and therefore no one would notice even if it was crooked, and we’ve got a real easy cut.

So I comb his hair through, first with my really big toothed comb – he didn’t use conditioner this morning. It takes me five minutes – at least! – just to get the knots out of his hair. Then finally I’m ready to start.

With comb in hand, and using his clippers to cut the hair, I’m done in about five minutes.

Dead hair gone.

I took about four inches off the bottom. I thought that was a reasonable amount – the rest at the bottom was too damaged.

Oh! Did I mention that we were in the bathroom? He sat on the commode backwards – no other chairs that would work adequately for the job. As he takes off his shirt for the haircut, I suggest he get naked. He looks at me like I’m nuts and asks why. Oh, I dunno. It would be more fun for me. 🙂 Isn’t that enough of a reason?


Fahim gets up off the commode when I’m done, looks at the hair on the floor, and gasps! Audibly! So much hair!!!!

Yeah, whatever, dude. It ain’t that much. Suck it up.

His hair looks way way better – all nice and healthy and bouncy and shiny. It looks great!

He leaves for work, so I attack my hair. First, the bangs, then the rest. I chop about three or four inches off the bottom – again, with the fancy dancy clippers. It works beautifully!

I’m so happy when it’s done. My hair is all bouncy again – not just hanging all drooping. It’s got body again. Yay!

And for the record – I chopped off less length from my hair than his, and I STILL chopped more than twice as much hair as him. And he complains!

Author: LMAshton
Howdy! I'm a beginner artist, hobbyist photographer, kitchen witch, wanderer by nature, and hermit introvert. This is my blog feed. You can find my fediverse posts at

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