Fake it ’til you make it

We’ve all heard that, right?  The idea is that you pretend to a confidence you don’t actually have so that the pretense will provide access to real success and, thus, in some sort of cosmic feedback loop, to real confidence.

There are variations on this, unrelated to confidence, specifically.  Proponents of the Law of Attraction encourage us to “act as if” we already have the things we want in order to draw more of them to us.  Actors use a form of this called “working from the outside in,” on the theory that behavior influences emotion.  Mothers use it, primarily, I think, to reassure children.  (I was well into adulthood before I realized my mother was not necessarily as blasé about spiders and snakes and rodents as she pretended to be when I was young.)

All of those variations are fascinating to me and probably worth posts of their own, but today, I want to talk about haircuts.

(Don’t get whiplash from that double-take, now, as your mind attempts to grapple with the apparent change of subject.  You heard me correctly.  Haircuts.)

Inadvertently, I have conducted my own experiment in acting “as if.”

You see, it’s this way.  I’ve been cutting my husband’s hair for a few months now.  We moved down here to Florida, and he can’t find a barber he likes.  Plus, we bought a house of that precarious architectural style known as a “fixer-upper,” so, you know — cash flow.  If I cut his hair, there are a few more dollars for other things.  Like spackle.  And plumbers.

When we began this, I had never before cut anyone’s hair.  Successfully, I mean.  I frequently, in desperation and to avoid looking like a sheepdog, cut my own bangs.  (It doesn’t usually work out well.  Let’s not dwell on it.)  Other than that, I’ve not come near anyone’s head with sharp implements.

But how hard could it be?

Clippers.  Clippers are the solution.  They sell them in the drugstore.  They expect that people will make use of them, and you don’t hear about a lot of tragic haircutting accidents, so. . . .  We decided to try it.

The MotH* was encouraging and full of helpful tips.  (Me having sharp objects in my hand never deters him from telling me what to do.  He is either very brave or very dumb.  On any given day, my interpretation see-saws from one end of that spectrum to the other.)  I watched YouTube videos about how to cut men’s hair with clippers.  It didn’t go so badly.  That was haircut # 1.

Haircut #2 was a whole different story.  Several weeks had passed.  I had forgotten most of what I learned in those videos.  I didn’t re-watch them before attempting haircut #2.  I was tentative and nervous and vocal about it.  “Uh-oh” was a phrase that came all too frequently out of my mouth.  The MotH got nervous. . .and testy.  And he did not approve of his haircut after the first pass at it.

We took a break to re-think and re-group — and for me to re-watch my videos.  A second pass, later that afternoon, righted most of the earlier–um–infelicities of the haircut.  No lives were lost, although I could tell that the MotH’s appreciation of my help in barbering had diminished somewhat.

Yesterday, it was time for haircut #3.  I approached it with anxiety.  After all, I have had zero haircut’s worth of additional experience since the last time I did this.  But I also made an internal resolution to pretend that it was going well even if I, myself, had doubts.

We set up the stool in the garage.  I plugged in the clippers, spritzed the hair, and–like the actor I have sometimes been–proceeded to work from the outside in.  I made sure that my physical motions were deliberate rather than hesitant.  I handled the clippers and scissors with assurance and passed them over his head with conviction.  I didn’t say, “Uh-oh,” in spite of thinking it more than once.  When I was finished, I said, “I think that looks pretty good!” in a pleased, if slightly surprised, tone.

And here’s the fascinating thing.  The haircut isn’t that much better than the previous one.  In fact, objectively, I might say it is slightly worse than the revised version of the afternoon’s retake of haircut #2.  (Only slightly.  I wouldn’t send him out looking like he has been badly scalped!)  It’s an okay haircut.  No Rodeo Drive styling.  Ordinary.  Okay.

But he is much happier with it.

Fake it ’til you make it.  Sometimes, if you fake it well enough, they won’t realize you haven’t totally made it.

And keep watching those hair cutting videos.