My name is Erin, and I have a problem…"

Oooooook. It’s confession time. I have always had this secret obsession with hair styling. I love seeing the different blends of colors, cool cuts, and of course, amazing product (even though I rarely buy any). I drive my girlfriend nuts with questions about the how and why of what she is doing. She knows my closet obsession with hair and indulges me with answers every time. I have been in a “relationship” with my hair dresser for over 20 years. She is one of the people in my life that I love on a deeper level, even though we are not everyday friends, we have an incredible friendship. I watched her get married, I have watched (from afar) her 2 kids grow up into these amazing mini adults with incredible souls. We have journeyed through a lot of our adult lives together, and she has been the most incredible mentor, friend, therapist, and of course miracle worker. She has held my hand and rescued my hair through many of my attempts throughout the years of taking a stab at my dreams.

We were just joking a couple weeks back at our girlfriend’s hair transition party, that I am kind of like “Lenny” from “Of Mice and Men” when it comes to hair. It’s been a long standing joke that I need to stop trying to fulfill my dreams of hair styling and just let it go, to which I had conceded long ago.

Until Corona. Until lockdown. My little wingman’s hair grows at an envious rate of speed and had become unglued. I was beginning to sound like a fish wife reminding him on the reg about how long his hair was and how he needed a haircut. Well, let’s call it lockdown madness, but I pulled out my best pair of scissors the other night after Nugs got out of the shower, broke every promise I have ever made, mentally replayed the thousands of hours of visual “training”, and started cutting. For the first couple of snips, I thought I was on roll. Then I got to his bangs, and made a wrong snip and had instantly turned him into Lloyd Christmas from Dumb and Dumber. I burst out laughing, to the point I was crying laughing, and apologizing to him. I literally fell to the bathroom floor laughing and apologizing. The worst part was, he had just watched part of that exact movie and immediately knew who I was referring to. He was less than amused with me and my hysteria.

Once I gathered myself, he clapped back at me by banning me for life from ever touching his hair and closed me down with “aaaand scene”. Needless to say, his dad ended up fixing it by giving him a complete buzz cut, to which now our son is literally a mini me of him. Sigh. A lesson that I should have learned many moons ago.

I feel the need to make my hideous, stubborn, epic fail public, so as to be held accountable and prevent any possible hair disasters in the future. My name is Erin, and I have a problem. I can guarantee that I have lost all hope of becoming my girlfriend’s hair assistant anytime soon and I’m just going to have to deal.

“Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same”

so much love and respect.

xo-e