I forgot what a good looking son I have.

I couldn't take it any more. Every time I looked at him he was greasy, disheveled and dandruffy. I have told him more times than I can remember that if he wanted to grow out his hair, I was fine with it as long as it was kept clean and neat. He would swear up and down that he would, and insist he was doing just that when questioned, even though it was obvious he was not.
At dinner tonight I was so disgusted looking at him I could barely choke down my meal. I went straight for the shears. He was pissed, and it didn't matter that his little sister tried to tell him that she thought he looked better with short hair. "I think I'll look gay!" He roared at her, then glowered at all of us. Didn't stop me, I was on a mission.
I never even touched his hair, just ran the clippers over his head while he continued to glare about the room, his objection oozing out of every pore. As I buzzed his head I tried to lighten the mood, telling him funny stories and such. When I had finished, his siblings were voicing their approval and he seemed to be feeling tentatively better about the whole thing. Then I had him rolling with merriment when I backed up to get a better look at him and with a smile in my eyes stated "No, I'm afraid you were right, you do look gay."