So I get home from work the other night, park my car and walk across our gravel driveway. I look down and see tufts of salt & pepper hair. What in the world? Ned must have cut his hair. Oh, no! I race into the house and demand he come into the kitchen so I can see him. He’s wearing a hat.

“You didn’t. You did, didn’t you?”

“I look normal with a hat on.”

The last time he shaved his head I made my feelings pretty clear on the matter. Don’t. ever. do. that. again. We were upstairs in our bedroom and he says to me, “Honey, I was thinking about shaving my head.” And I answered him in the worst possible way – without thinking and paying little attention. “Mmmh. Uh huh. Okay. – WAIT!” By the time my brain had comprehended what he said he had already vanished. I ran down the stairs and out into the garage. It was too late. He’d already swiped the clippers over his head.

And now, he’s done it – again.

Don’t get me wrong. I would love him even if he was bald. But some heads just aren’t made to be naked. He’s handsome, but his shaved head is ugly. There. I said it.

Fortunately it will grow out again. And for the record, lest you think I only discredit my dear husband on this blog, let me tell you all the wonderful things I love about him – despite his predilection for junky cars cars and shaved heads.

He cooks. A lot. In fact, for awhile he cooked me dinner every night. Now I share that chore with him once a week or so. He totally, absolutely adores me and tells me often. Every day he says ‘I love you so much.’ He tells me I’m beautiful and how great I look (despite the fact I’ve gained twenty pounds). He golfs with me rather than his buddies. He doesn’t get upset when I spend money and he caters to my wants not just needs.

So I ask you, what’s a little fuzz and pointy head compared to all that?

I’ll take him just as he is.

All for Him

Missy