Don't drink & cut hair {learned the hard way}...

My dear, trusting husband...what a night we had. I knew after it was over it would be best to leave blogging til morning. I'm still a little surprised I had the presence of mind to grab my camera.

OK, everybody this is Matt. He thinks I can do anything. He's always complaining that he needs a haircut and finally harassed me into buying clippers, even though I was terrified to even try to cut his hair.

Well, we were hanging out on the couch after dinner - he had had a few beers and I had indulged with 2 margaritas {if you know me you know my tolerance level is 1/2 of one}. Well, he found the clippers I had bought and decided that it was the perfect time for a haircut.

So I took a picture of him pleading and laughing for a haircut - how could you deny that look? This is his, "I love you, I trust you, you can't possibly mess this up look". He set the clippers and told me to go ahead and, um, I did. I giggled through the first few passes and then started sobbing when I realized I had no idea what I was doing. Matt loves it. I miss the hair. It was super hard for me, because deep down I want him to grow it out like it was when we first met. Oh well...I took before & after shots of his head. At least it grows back.