Being 40 means there’s not a lot of things I haven’t tried at least once during my lifetime.

Sure, there are things like running with the bulls, making meth and trying heroin that haven’t been tried, but those have never been high on my list anyway (no pun intended).

But Sunday afternoon I found myself contemplating doing something I’ve had done to me countless times, just never at my own hands.

I cut my own hair.

Just saying that out loud, even now after the fact, makes me cringe a little and I suddenly have the urge to touch my head.

I blame Tammy for making me do this. Not because she was telling me to or anything, but because she bought me a “beard” trimmer for Christmas. Notice the quote marks? I did that because it was more of a Hair Trimmer than a beard trimmer.

Even though I’ve trimmed my goatee with the trimmer numerous times since December, I felt the need to cut my own hair with it (touches head).

When we lived in Illinois I never had a problem getting my hair cut because Tammy’s sister, who owns a salon (Salon Mackk), would always give me a buzz and it always looked the same. Well, except that time my hair looked like a cheetah, but to be fair Kristan was still in beauty school and I was her guinea pig.

My toes had been gripping the floor so tightly with my legs locked at the knees that my feet where throbbing.

Since we’ve moved to Memphis, I’ve gone to SportClips to get my hair cut and while they are OK, I’ve only had the same person cut my hair twice.

So, armed with my new trimmers I decided to cut my own hair (touches head) after breakfast Sunday morning.

I’m not really sure what time I actually started because I kept stalling. I was all over the place. I changed shorts, took off my shirt, walked into my Man Cave, walked into the living room.

Tammy: You are nervous aren’t you?
Me: Yeah.
Tammy: I can tell.
Me: How?
Tammy: Because you keep pacing without actually doing anything.
Me: I don’t want to mess it up.
Tammy: Who cares? If you do then you can go someplace and have them fix it.

I decided I’d go at the end of the episode of Bar Rescue that was on TV because I knew if I started watching another episode then it’d be another hour before I started anything.

When the episode ended I went into the bathroom, closed the door and looked at myself in the mirror and looked down at my tools. Not THAT tool, the hair trimmer.

During my stalling, I had laid out all of the hair guards from biggest to smallest so there would be no confusion. I had things so organized that it was like a freaking operating room in there and I felt like the doctor AND the patient at the same.

This setup would NOT have been acceptable in my operating room.

I started with the largest guard and slowly started running it through my hair. It took a few passes before I realized it was actually cutting anything.

I swapped it out with the next size down and literally jumped the first time I heard the clippers make contact with my hair. I stopped to survey the damage and when I was sure my scalp wasn’t showing I proceeded.

With each pass I got a little bolder, the buzzing sounds of my hair meeting the blades affected me less and less.

When my hair was all the same length, I replaced the guard and started working on the sides of my head.

That’s when I noticed my feet, which were turning purple.

Due to my fear of scalping myself, my toes had been gripping the floor so tightly with my legs locked at the knees that my feet where throbbing.

Once I realized that I was going to be OK, the process seemed a lot less painless and I started regaining feeling in my feet.

As I got to the end of everything, I stuck my head out the door and asked Tammy to bring me the broom. She opened the door a few minutes later and was horrified at what she saw.

While my pile wasn’t as long as this, it definitely was bigger than this.

Tammy: Oh my Gaaawwwdd.
Me: What? (as I was vacuuming up the hair on the floor)Tammy: I was going to take a picture of that (hair on the floor).
Me: Why?
Tammy: Because it looks like you shaved a bear in there.
Me: …

I closed the door and continued the clean-up process, even vacuuming hair off my shoulders, which looked like I was wearing some sort of furry scarf.

NOT ME!! My shoulders were WAY hairy than this guys.

I jumped into the shower to wash all of the stray hairs away and was feeling pretty good about myself as my fingers ran through what was left of my hair.

Not terrible for my first time.

It wasn’t until I got OUT of the shower that I started to second guess my decision. Not because my hair was all jacked-up or anything, but because I could hear the ending of the Bar Rescue episode.

I had literally spent and hour messing around with my hair. My blood-pressure had spiked, my feet where throbbing and calve muscles were sore, all in an effort to save $25-30.

AND I didn’t even get the hot towel treatment or the scalp and shoulder massage I’d get at SportClips.

While I was a little upset about how long it took, I was proud that I had accomplished it without looking like a tool.

I  just don’t know if I’ll be up for doing it again anytime soon.