Hair salons and barber shops opened their doors last week, and for most, not a moment too soon.

Without the benefit of professional hair stylists for the past six weeks, most of us were showing our true colors. In my case, that hair color is not chestnut brown.

Some decided to take matters into their own hands and turn their kitchens into a beauty salon. That made me remember when my dad cut my brothers’ hair.

He’d get a stool and start with the oldest. Usually Dad had a couple of beers before he cut their hair, so he was feeling pretty confident about his abilities.

My brothers – not so much.

Dad’s hair styling consisted of three styles.

One was putting a bowl over the boys’ heads to use as a guide. They ended up looking like Moe from The Three Stooges.

His next style was to put his hand on top of their heads, hold them still and then drag the electric razor up the sides of their heads and finish it off with an attempt to get their bangs even.

His main style was to shave the sides of their heads and the tops and they’d walk away with a crooked crew cut. There was no trying to get out of the haircut – my dad wasn’t about to pay a barber for what he could do with that electric razor in the comfort of our own kitchen.

My youngest sister tried her hand at cutting our neighbor’s little girl’s hair. When they were 4 years old, my sister decided Lisa needed her bangs trimmed.

When Lisa’s mom came home, she was mortified. I remember standing back and saying “Well, for a 4-year-old, she did a good job with the scissors.”

I’ve never been brave enough to cut my own hair. Years ago, I tried a home perm. I thought I was buying a body-wave kit, but I accidentally bought a Lilt Home Permanent kit.

When I took the rollers out of my hair, I thought the curls would wash out.

I was wrong.

I washed my hair 20 times that night, used half a bottle of conditioner and still I looked like Harpo Marx.

There are success stories. Some friends decided since they were married and a team most of the time, they might as well beauty salon together.

With a cell phone set up as a camera, they showed each other giving the other a facial. Then they moved on to haircuts.

Coy and Liza did a fabulous job with the trims and facials and provided a hysterical cut-by-cut chronicle of their actions, complete with cotton balls between their toes while they toasted each success with a fresh glass of wine.

The most recent home haircut didn’t turn out quite as successful. My oldest grandson was tired of his hair always getting in his eyes. He asked his dad to trim up his hair since dad has a haircutting kit.

Chris warned James he wasn’t skillful with cutting someone else’s hair, but James felt confident his dad could at least trim his hair in the front.

Chris called later that night. The home haircut had been a disaster. Apparently, it’s not so easy to cut and trim hair as it is to shave your whole head. They found a friend who’s a hairdresser and she agreed to fix the haircut.

They socially distanced and James loved being able to see.

His father has vowed to never try and cut his sons’ hair again.

He’s off the hook for a while as, thankfully, the hair salons and barber shops are taking customers.

Businesses are reopening slowly, and we can stop pretending we’re chefs, home-school teachers and flower-power “make-love, not-war” children from the 1960s.

Although those love beads have been a lot of fun to wear around the house.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.