The Life and Times of Andy’s Hair

Originally published April 2008.

[Now, before you think me a terrible wife, let it be known I have full authorization to hit the "publish" button when I'm finished with this post. And thank you, honey, for being such a good sport.]

A couple of years ago I caught Andy, hunched over the toilet, shaving all his hair off. He was going to become the next great swimmer or something.

(He even made me buy him a particular piece of men’s swimming attire that I will not specifically mention here. Ahem.)

(And he did go swim some laps.)

(Once.)

Yesterday I dug through some of our old pictures and actually found a photo of him right after he had buzzed his hair:

Anyway, I had warned him before this little shaving spree that if he ever did shave his head, I would get a haircut of my own. A short one. And even though he’s typically a fan of longer hair on me, clearly my threat accomplished nothing.

I promptly had my hairdresser friend cut my hair; I was pregnant with Madeline at the time. I even found an old picture of it, too:

It was a fun change. That’s really all I have to say about that.

Except.

This past weekend I was sitting here at the dining table, reading through my Google Reader, and I heard the bathroom door shut quietly upstairs, and the buzzers turn on. I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

I took the stairs two at a time, and threw open the bathroom door. There was Andy, caught red-handed with the clippers again.

Me, amused: “What are you doing?”

Him, sputtering: “I, uh… I need a summer cut. Look, it’s a Number Eight. It’s not that short.”

Me: “Okay, but you should do shorter on the sides and back. And if you need help trimming the neckline, I’ll come back.”

Here’s what I came back to:

That, my friends, is no Number Eight.

That is a Number Four.

Oh my.

I may be paying my hairdresser a quick little visit.

BUT! I found some other photo album gems while I was digging around and let’s just take a fun little walk down the memory lane of Andy’s Hair. You game? Good!

Here’s one from when we were in college and Andy was studying abroad in Vienna. Some of my cousins and I were studying in the South of France and he came for a visit. This is what he looked like upon first walking in the door:

I whisked him off for a haircut and shave, posthaste:

His hair and beard grown out for the Madrigal Dinner (I think his senior year?):

Our first Christmas married (still long; no beard):

Cut short for his senior recital:

Short, add goatee (I was pregnant with Drew):

This one says it all:

Who is this next guy? Doesn’t look familiar…

Wow. Shouldn’t you be in Hollywood filming something?

Well. Nevermind.

(Also the funniest bed-head picture you’ll ever see.)

More bed heads:

At least Drew comes by it honestly.

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The Mop Tops.

(This family is obviously not lacking in the hair department.)

Cut again short for my cousin Courtney’s wedding:

Long again by Thanksgiving:

Still long at Adelaide’s birth:

Cut for her baptism, understandably:

To conclude, here’s a more recent picture of Andy’s hair (also entitled ‘Meet My YouTube Junkies’):

And thankfully this Number Four business won’t take too long to grow out.

[It didn't. Now it's September and he could use a little trim. :) ]