Consider the Hair

This is a picture of me when I was about 18 or 19 years old.

I am not posting this picture to point out the fact that I evidently thought it was OK to wear a suit with a shirt with a button down collar (Honestly, who let me leave the house that way?) That is another blog. It is to show you my hair. Are you kidding me with that stuff? Thick, gorgeous, full of body. In a word: awesome.

I was apparently more smirky as a youth

This is more the look I am currently rocking (I'm the one in the back.)

Poor son. That hair is doomed to go.

What happened? Well, genetics happened. When I was about 19 or 20 my hair started to go and went pretty fast over the next few years. I miss it greatly. Only men who are not bald try to say that losing your hair is "no big deal." It is a big deal and it kinda sucks. I would trade up to three fingers (if I could pick which ones) for my hair back. Vain, yes. But I miss those locks.

What I miss most about my hair, other than its sheer beauty and brilliantine shine, is going to get a hair cut. When I was in college and was still clinging to my mahogany tresses, I would go to fancy salons when I would be given a cold Diet Coke, have meaningful chats with beautiful stylists and finish it all off with a minty-scented shampoo and a scalp massage. It was a treat and a delight. Relaxing and fun. I still remember my stylists fondly (I miss you Heidi and Shep!)

About 10 years ago, I realized that it just wasn't worth it anymore. I was paying a lot of money for not a lot of hairs to be cut. So I started going to those strip mall saloons - "Fantastic" Sam's, "Great"Clips, "Super" Cuts. (Ironic quotation marks mine.) For $11 someone will buzz my hair with clippers and clean up the mess. No meaningful chit-chat. No minty shampoo. No scalp massage. But it gets the job done. Going to get a hair cut is no longer an indulgence. It is just another item on my to do list.

Today at a unnamed haircutting place (between a Check City and a Pizza Hut - oh, the Humanity!) I was told the following things by my stylist:

"My doctor prescribed me Xanex to take when I was standing outside my 13 year-old's room with a pillow thinking 'He won't struggle that much!'"

and

"I used to tell my son 'I have a shovel and grandpa has a shotgun and it would just take a jury with one parent and I would never be convicted.'"

I wasn't sure if after the cut I should tip her or call child protective services/ the police. Heidi and Shep would never have talked about filicide!

So I am living in a different world now. A dark, hairless scalp massage free world. And I sometimes miss the old one. But if I have to be bald, at least I don't wear a button down collars with suits anymore. Now that would truly be something to be ashamed of.