"Hey, baby?" my girlfriend Hannah asked me one Saturday afternoon, when we were hanging out in her apartment.
"Yeah?" I said.
"I've been thinking," she said, "and I've decided I want to change my hair."
"Oh?" I said. "What do you want to do with it?" I was a little worried, since I liked Hannah's chest-length brown waves the way they were. Considering she worked as a hairstylist, though, I figured she'd probably have the taste to pick out something flattering - or maybe just something weird, for the sake of her art.
"I definitely want to go shorter," Hannah said, "but I don't have all the details nailed down. If this were a client who told me 'use your own judgment', I could experiment as I was cutting, no sweat - but this is me, and I don't have nearly as much experience cutting my own hair as cutting other people's. On the other hand, though, I'd feel silly paying another stylist to be a pair of hands for me..."
"What if we swapped bodies for a few hours?" I said. "You sit me down, and cut your own hair using my body."
"That's a good idea!" Hannah said. "We can do it right in the kitchen. I'll go gather what we need."
