Meth: a Ticking Timebomb Gone Viral

The Story of the Gay Hairdresser

Today was a good day. I could easily get used to this.

Mom needed a haircut and since the pandemic, it's been hard to get her usual services done. Because of her disabilities (arthritis, macular degeneration and obesity), we have her doctor make house calls when appropriate (or phone consultations when it's just a script). We have stairs, and so, it's not easy to transport her to places...and the truth is, she prefers to stay home and watch her British comedy TV shows (even though she can't make out much on the screen) for the hundredth time. It doesn't matter to her and she laughs every time.

This virus has caused us all to adapt... both negative and positive...the negatives we are all aware of, but for me, the positives are that I have had to learn to do the services for my mom we would ordinarily get someone else in to do. I've had to learn to cut her toenails and also cut her hair.

Not one to do things by halves, I put on a routine as I gave her a haircut, acting like she is at a real salon and I am her gay hairdresser. I fussed and fluffed and chatted...mimicing the campest man you have ever met. I told her, with a hand on my hip, "Darling, you look spectacular!" And even though she is blind and can't actually tell if I do a good job or not, I took my time and tried my best to make sure her hair looked as beautiful as I could make it.

I then dropped the gay hairdresser persona and mowed my lawn...not that a gay man can't mow lawns, it's just that I have my man's man reputation to uphold...Ummmm, I think that came out wrong, but who cares when the sun is shining, my lawn is singing, my mom looks beautiful and I am not under the influence of drugs.