The Great Pandemic Haircut Disaster of 2020

Remember during the pandemic when we all became "professional" hairstylists? And by professional, I mean absolutely clueless people wielding sharp objects near our loved ones' heads with way too much confidence. Yeah, let me tell you about the time I accidentally gave my husband the world's most unexpected buzz cut.

So there we were, deep in lockdown, when my husband decided he wanted a mohawk. You know the type - business on the sides, party in the middle. "Sure, honey!" I said, with all the confidence of someone who once successfully trimmed their own bangs in middle school. I mean, how hard could it be? 

Post-dinner, with the kids creating their usual evening chaos (because apparently, that's when they're most energetic), I dutifully got out the clippers. The first round went surprisingly well! I managed the sides, left the middle strip, and felt pretty proud of my newfound calling as a pandemic barber. My husband seemed happy, I put everything away, and I thought we were done. Narrator: They were not done.

After his shower, my husband decided the middle needed "just a little trim" with the next guard down. Sure, fine, whatever… let me just dig all this stuff out again because apparently, we're running a full-service salon here. I was tired, the kids were being kids, and I just wanted to be done with this impromptu barbershop adventure.

And here's where things went spectacularly wrong. In my exhausted state, I plugged in the clippers, lined them up, and went straight down the middle of his head like Moses parting the Red Sea. One small detail I forgot: THE GUARD. You know, that tiny but crucial piece of plastic that prevents you from accidentally giving someone a military-grade buzz cut?

The sound was different, that horrible grinding noise that instantly tells you something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. I froze, clippers still humming in my hand, staring at the perfect stripe of nearly-bald scalp gleaming under our kitchen lights. And then it hit me - the full reality of what I'd just done. I lost it. We're talking uncontrollable, snorting, tears-streaming-down-my-face, can't-breathe kind of laughter.

My husband, still sitting in our kitchen chair and completely unaware that he now had a landing strip on his head, turned to look at me with growing suspicion. "Why are you laughing like that? What did you do?"

I couldn't speak. I literally couldn't form words. Just pointed weakly toward the bathroom while making sounds that resembled a dying hyena.

The minute he jumped up from that chair, I swear I've never seen him move so fast. It was like watching an Olympic sprinter qualify for the finals. Three seconds later, from the bathroom, came the kind of reaction that would make a stand-up comedian proud:

"HOLY F$CK!"

"WHAT THE F DID YOU JUST DO?!"

"OH MY [extended series of creative words that would make a sailor take notes]!"

"HOW... WHAT... ARE YOU... I CAN'T... [more words our children shouldn't ever repeat]!"

Each new explosion from the bathroom sent me into fresh fits of hysterics. I was now sliding down the kitchen cabinets, literally crying, while the clippers sat innocently on the counter like they hadn't just participated in this catastrophe.

Through my tears, I managed to wheeze out, "I forgot the guard!" which was met with another colorful burst of vocabulary from the bathroom that probably taught our neighborhood kids some new words.

The commotion had, of course, attracted our children. Because nothing brings kids running quite like the sound of mom losing her mind in the kitchen while dad invents new combinations of swear words in the bathroom. Our 9-year-old reached the bathroom door first, took one look at his father's new style, and ran downstairs screaming like he'd just seen a ghost. Apparently, ultra-short hair was more terrifying than any monster under the bed. The poor kid has always had a thing about super-short haircuts, and here I was, turning his dad into his worst nightmare.

While most people were adjusting to working from home, my husband was one of the lucky (or unlucky, depending on the day) essential workers who got to show off his new military-inspired look to his entire workplace in person. Nothing says "my wife should never be trusted with clippers" quite like walking into the office looking like a Marine recruit. 

For the record, my husband's hair did grow back (thank goodness), my son eventually stopped flinching at the sight of his dad, and I have been permanently relieved of all future haircut duties. Some might call that a failure, but I prefer to think of it as a strategic career move. After all, there's nothing like catastrophic failure to ensure you're never asked to do something again.

Anyone else have any pandemic haircut horror stories? Please tell me I'm not the only one who accidentally gave their spouse an unintentional makeover! Drop your hair-raising tales in the comments below - misery loves company, especially when it comes to DIY haircuts gone wrong.

P.S. If you're reading this while considering letting your spouse give you a haircut... maybe just embrace the shaggy look. Trust me on this one.