I need to get my haircut. I am tired of bad hair days. The 'doo is growing unruly and it is refusing to listen to orders. And that is just unacceptable. There can only be one commander-in-chief and that is me. But it appears that a coup d'etat may be underway. It is not the first time. Every so often a wild hair grabs a hold of some crazy idea and tries to lead a rebellion.
What at one time was a large Jewfro is kept clipped short. In my younger years I ruthlessly maintained order by employing severe measures. I wore a flat top, or brush cut as some called it.
I loved it!
It was exceptionally easy to take care of, sleep and wear with no care. I'd wake up and all I had to do was run my fingers through it. But no matter how severe a master, the slave will find a way to rebel. My own hair betrayed me. It was a gradual process. The rebels were smart. They didn't all flee at once, just a few hair and there. In time I noticed that the ranks had been thinned out.
The change was not welcome. It is not because I fear being bald. I do not. The day will come when I choose to shave my head. I will not be the man who loops six long strings across my skull in a sad, myopic attempt to pretend that I still have a full head of hair. No sir.
No the change was unwelcome because I was forced to let my hair grow somewhat longer. The Flat Top just didn't work any longer, but there was far too much hair to shave my head. I figured that there was no point in shaving when I didn't have a choice.
Now I let it grow longer, although longer is a relative term. Most people would still consider it short. Now I go about six to eight weeks between cuts. The sweet spot is about two or three weeks. By that I mean that this is when I think that it looks best. Vanity makes an appearance here and there.
At around the six week mark I usually notice that there are some curls poking up on the side of my head and some hints of trouble brewing on top. I haven't yet reached the point where there crown resembles my baby pictures, but then again it is not so thick up there any longer.
Fortunately the back of my head remains as thick as it ever was. ;)
"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." — Groucho Marx
How I Decide To Get A Haircut
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
Why I Blog
Been a minute since I last updated so I thought I would reference an older post about Why I Blog . Here at the keyboard I commune with ot...
There are moments when hosting Haveil Havalim very much reminds me of the cabin scene from A Night At The Opera. There are so many different...
Someone once told me that the heart wants what the heart wants. I don’t know if that is a line from a book or a movie, it could be. Then aga...
I know that there are at least two people in the blogosphere besides myself that remember Richies Pizza in Jerusalem, Jameel and Trep . But...
Post a Comment