M is for Moustache

It was just before Christmas and Master Ben was in dire need of a haircut. I wasn’t going to put up with any of his feeble excuses in an attempt to get out a much-needed haircut, so I frogmarched him into the barbers which, in the pre-Christmas rush, was pretty busy. Now this is a barbers which is principally a male barber’s shop but will occasionally cut women’s hair if they’re not busy.

Anyway, Master Ben and I were awaiting his turn in the barber’s chair. It was a long long wait and although there were two barbers both had clients and there were two further clients in the waiting area. I was filling in my time reading The Sun (standard barber shop reading) and Master Ben was filling his time just looking around. This was the conversation that followed:

Master Ben: The women’s haircuts are more expensive.

Mrs T (Looking up at the price board): I know – but it’s still cheaper than my hairdressers down the road where it costs a lot more.

Master Ben: But why do they charge more for women’s haircuts?

Mrs T: Well….ladies’ hairdressing saloons are usually a bit more luxurious… and it can take much longer to cut ladies’ hair…. and (keeping voice low so the barbers don’t overhear) women on the whole are more vain so they tend to get more easily ripped off.

( I know – it was a tad cruel to be mean about my own sex but I figured I might as well break it to Master Ben now – that way he can get the pre-nup in place first time around.  And if he earns a ton of cash when he’s older hopefully he’ll still have some spare to support his old mum rather than several high maintenance ex-wives.)

Master Ben: But your hair is short. Why should you pay more? (Thoughtful pause) Why don’t you pretend you’re a man?

Mrs T (Momentarily flabbergasted) Umm… because I look like a woman?

Master Ben: But you have a moustache.

(Slight pause as Mrs T contemplates a) suicide b) putting Master Ben up for adoption and c) pretending to be deaf.

Mrs T: Well I do have very dark hair….

 (Mrs T is now as bright as a pickled beetroot but trying desperately to look totally nonchalant )

Master Ben: And you have a beard.

(Mrs T’s hand immediately flies to chin to check for giant facial hairs whilst turning a deep puce and feeling the first stirrings of a panic attack.)

Mrs T: ********* ****** *********!!!*******!!!!!!

 ( It’s not expletives – I just can’t actually remember what as I said – I was too distressed.)

Master Ben: But in the sun I can see blonde hairs beneath your lip!

Mrs T: *************Ummmm…….********  Ahhhhhh…..******

 (I said something but again I can’t remember what – probably some unintelligible dribble as by this time I was practically an incoherent red mass of blubber on the floor.)

Master Ben: You could wear a baggy jumper and no one could see your….(giggles)…no one could see that you’re a woman.

Mrs T: (Still trying to be nonchalant) I still think people could tell I’m a woman.

Master Ben: But no one’s going to check.

Mrs T: I suppose so. (Anything to shut the kid up.)

Master Ben: Well they’re not going to look down your pants.

Mrs T: Oh look it’s the football highlights…… (Anything to distract the kid – even football)

It’s a sad fact of life that as women get old they get hairier and as men get old they go bald.  Currently, I’m offering my facial hair for sale on Ebay. It’s the  ideal birthday gift for any man considering a hair transplant as it will replicate and get thicker on a daily basis. And – just in case anyone asks – my pubic hair is not for sale. A woman has to have some self-respect.

Finally, I just want to confirm that conversation really did happen. Now I know some of  you will be thinking one of the following:

a) I need a shave

or

b) Master Ben sounds so sweet and innocent he probably didn’t really mean to embarrass me in front of six men and push me to the edge of a violent and bloody suicide.

To which I answer:

a) My life would be a lot easier as a man. However, I swear to God I am not as gross as I sound. In fact, about 25 years ago I once got my arse pinched twice on the same day. The fact they were both school kids is totally irrelevant.

b) Master Ben is about as sweet and innocent as Dita Von Teese. I saw his face. That boy will go far, believe me.