’Would you like your eyebrows shaving Sir?’ enquired my Barber.
Its one of those seminal moments in life.
Like when you make the decision to switch from listening to Radio 1 to Radio 2.
And then you make the decision to move again from Radio 2 to Radio 4.
Or when you discover that an old sock makes for an excellent shoe polishing implement.
Or the thought of leaving for a night out at 10.30pm, rather than going to bed, sends you into a panic spin.
I’m at the barbers having my hair cut by my Number 1 Man whom which I have travelled 16 miles to be with (having moved house recently I have not managed to find a new barber you see hence the journey).
Sitting in the chair nonchalantly discussing the latest developments in the village, when I’m hit with a curve ball.
I mean it just came out of nowhere!
As if it’s not bad enough seeing my hair has gotten greyer since last time and that my hair-line has receded that little bit further!
When the following words come out of the blue:
‘Would you like your eyebrows shaving Sir?’ asked the barber innocently.
‘Why?’ I respond defensively ‘What are you insinuating? Are you suggesting I have bushy eyebrows?’
I mean, come on, I’m only 35 and not yet ready to make life changing decisions like this!
Getting my hair cut is one of the last bastions of solace for me. Where I get a bit of me time and the opportunity to have a natter with the barber. I mean it’s supposed to be safe!
So the pressure was on!
I’d not felt an intrusion into one of the few place of solace I have left since my best mate told me I was tight for not tipping the barbers!
I’ve had my hair cut the same way for the last 15 years – short back and sides, brushed forwards with a flick at the front (apart from one disastrous side parting experiment but there’s no need to go there).
What do you do?
I asked for reassurance.
‘Is this something most people my age do?’ I hear myself asking.
‘Oh yes Sir’ replied the barber ‘I even do my own’ he added reassuringly.
Well I have to admit I bottled it and replied ‘No thank you’.
I mean as I slowly progress through parenthood I find myself doing and saying more and more things that I used to hate my Dad saying such as:
‘What’s this mark on the wall?’
‘Take your shoes off your treading mud everywhere!’
‘Are we now heating the whole of the street, please close the front door’
Having my eyebrows shaved was a change I refused to embrace in the safety of the barber’s shop.
But when I got home curiosity killed the cat so to speak.
‘What if shaving my eyebrows made me look that little bit younger?’ I ask myself.
And that was that, thirty seconds later with the aid of my clippers my little bushes were sporting their very own short, back and sides.
I have to say I was quite pleased with the outcome and I have accepted it’s another rite of passage added to my list of things to do to fight ageing and help to make me look younger.
Next I’ll be agreeing to have the hair on my ears flamed………excuse me as I indicate to move into the fast lane