Thursday, June 5, 2014

A Journey in Hair

Haircuts have never been my favorite activity. To be honest they would be lucky to break the top hundred. Let me put it another way. I really do not like getting haircuts. They are quite the challenge for me. Every time I go I have to worry if they will understand what I am asking for and if I will be required to make small talk. I don't care about how your kid is always late to band practice. I want you to focus on my hair! One false move and I am down an ear. I like the look of having both of them thank you very much. It isn't that I am incapable of small talk or that I think they will take my head of hair and leave a devastated landscape that appears to be a cross between a friar and Flock of Seagulls, it is just everything that is involved combines together to be about as much fun as helping an old lady put tiny outfits on feral cats.

Those feral cats are looking like a pretty good idea right about now.

  Here are a few things I am talking about.

  1. I don't like strangers near my face. Do they have my best interest in mind or have I just stared into the eyes of my doom?
  2. The feel of cut hair sticking to your body. It never leaves. You take a shower, but days later you can swear it is still there mocking you. What was that? You don't like my outfit? You can be cruel, random haircut trimmings.
  3. Small talk. See above.
  4. Trying to describe what I want. I know what I want, I really do, but it is hard for me to get that idea across to someone else. I seem to be able to use my words to my advantage in most situations, but ask me about what cut I want and it'll seem like you are talking to a toddler.
I know that my dislike is irrational. Most of my friends get haircuts all the time. (Well not Coombsy, but we all know that he is like Sampson in that regard. No hair, no power.) They always tend to look nice after a good trim, but even that is not enough to push me into that hydraulic powered trap.

Doesn't seem shady at all...

After reading my random bursts of nonsense above, you probably have the idea in your mind that the only reasons for me to have my locks have to do with avoiding the barber at all costs. That is a fair assumption to come to, but that is not fully the case. Not only am I not a fan of haircuts I also happen to be a fan of me with hair of any length. I like me with short hair, but I also like it when my hair is longer. The following list includes some of the top reasons why I like my hair long.

  1. When I play tennis I can pretend I am Bjorn Borg. Being part Swede myself I have often enjoyed watching his game, and more importantly the way that he tamed his flowing mane with a sweatband.

    I wonder if he had the same tan line issues I am facing.
  2. My long hair is a constant challenge for my Dad. I wouldn't be surprised if one night in the near future I woke up with a buzz cut.
  3. I will be able to use my own hair for my Halloween costume. No need for a wig over here.
  4. When I finally do get my hair cut it will be long enough to donate to a charitable cause.
It is the last point that actually keeps the second point from happening. Once he realized that the hair will be donated, he stopped grumbling quite as much. One day this head of hair will be cut. One day I will rejoin the ranks of those who consider themselves clean cut. One day my lion's mane will be trimmed into the less ostentatious and less magical form of some other wild cat's hair. That day is not today. For today I will revel in the way my hair flows as I gently toss my head. I will walk the streets with hair that even the gods would envy (not really). I will enjoy this hair for as long as it lasts because it may never come again.

Drink it in.