I don’t get much time for personal indulgences these days. It’s been years since I’ve had a manicure. My lunch is usually some odds and ends gobbled up quickly and on the sly while standing over the sink. Magazines are too jewel-coloured to go unnoticed and ignored by curious little hands. And a relaxing cup of coffee… well, the combination of tempting and scalding hot is a bad one, so I don’t often get the chance.
I realised with a shock the other day that it’s been nearly a year since I had my hair cut. My last opportunity to go to the hairdressers was two weeks before the baby was born and I have tried and failed to get back ever since. I am so on-the-go all day that I forget to ring and make an appointment until I finally get a chance to stop and catch my breath somewhere around 11pm, and I find that the hairdressers is shut. Even if I managed to ring them, I don’t know when I could actually go: I am almost never without the girls in tow, and I can’t imagine they’d stay settled long enough. Fortunately, my last cut was a very good one and has stood the test of time admirably: it is much longer now than I ever would have wanted, but it does have a good shape to it. I trim my fringe every few weeks and all is well.
I don’t get much time for personal indulgences these days, and that includes fringe-trimming. I have to fit it in where I can. The other night, at 2am, heading to bed at last, I was tired and cranky — and my too-long fringe hanging in my eyes suddenly got on my last nerve. I grabbed the scissors and quickly snipped away, hasty in my annoyance. I woke in the morning to observe my late-night handiwork: too short, too square. Only by a centimeter perhaps, but that makes all the difference in the world on a fringe. I told myself it would grow quickly. I told myself that a shorter fringe makes me look younger, and I can use all the help I can get with that these days.
I don’t get much time for personal indulgences these days, and that includes cuddling with my husband. The baby usually keeps me up much later than he can manage, so he disappears off to bed at a decent hour and I crawl in alongside him in the wee hours of the morning, his rhythmic snoring telling me that he hasn’t even registered that I am there. This past year, we have been more like ships passing in the night than husband and wife. But last night the baby fell asleep surprisingly — miraculously — early and we found ourselves sitting on the couch, babyless, both awake at the same time. It felt so foreign that we neither of us knew what to do for a moment. Then we remembered and M put his arm out and I snuggled in under it. He pulled me in close and we grinned at each other like two excited kids doing something we shouldn’t. His arm felt strong around me, and he smelled good. I suddenly felt so loved up that I fancied our bodies were forming a heart-shape, with our heads and shoulders forming the round top and knees coming together for the point at the bottom.
He looked at me lovingly and said, “Did you cut your fringe today?” I said, yes, last night. He was smiling bemusedly, “I love it when you cut your fringe too short. It makes you look a bit stupid and simple.” He kissed me on the forehead and then dropped his face and nuzzled it against mine. I sat there slightly stunned and disbelieving, not quite knowing whether to be annoyed or amused. I pulled my face away and looked at him. He had cracked himself up and was smiling broadly, but it was a kind smile and full of love.
I chose amused and smiled back at him. I love my husband. He chuckled at me, and I laughed back. He pulled me in again and we sat close like that and chucked away for a few rare and precious moments. I love my husband, even though I often have no idea why.