Zoinks! I’m Far Too Shaggy
I’m fed up with my hair. It’s seriously gotten the best of me, and I think it’s time for a change.
Since I lost my job, I’ve more or less just been letting my hair grow long. I’ve had it cut four or five times, but nothing more than just a touch-up or a trim. Right now, the bangs are long enough to chew on, and the sides are pretty much the same. The back is shorter, but not by much. I’m pretty fuzzy overall.
Problem is; I rather like it when it behaves. It actually looks pretty good when styled up really nice, but my hair and I have never gotten along. It insists on doing whatever it wants as soon as I look away from the mirror. Lately, that means forming a part like the Red Sea right down the middle, and flopping the rest over the sides and front. It’s obnoxious, and no amount of gel or greasy product will tame it.
I hate my hair hanging in my face. I hate, hate, hate it. I don’t know how people with long hair can stand it. It’s so annoying and bothersome. If I drive with the windows down, it constantly blows into my eyes, obscuring my vision. Not only that, but it won’t stay in place if I push it back, and oftentimes you get those single strands that tickle your nose and forehead.
So you may be saying, "well, if you hate it so much, cut it off!" And you would be correct in thinking that. I’ve decided that it is indeed time to chop off the offending shag. It’s a little sad though, because I do like the look of long hair on guys. Lots of guys seem to be able to rock it, but apparently I’m not one of them. Right out of the shower, when it’s wet, or if I glob in tons of sticky product, I can trowel it into a form resembling something socially acceptable, but the sexiness wears of very quickly. Not fifteen minutes into my day, after a wetting and combing session that takes far too long, my hair snickers playfully and then proceeds to swirl and flip into a confusing mess, like a gymnast on crack, tangling and poofing, before finally settling down to hang directly into my face. Running back to the mirror, I discover the horror show that looks like a bad rug from the 70s that’s collapsed on top of my head and started sliding down the front. Tackling it quickly with a comb only results in a temporary solution. It’s folly, I say. I’ve even threatened it a couple of times with the clippers, but it knows I’m bluffing.
Or am I?
Going to the hair place tomorrow to teach my locks a lesson. Gonna hack several inches off too. That oughta learn it good.
Doesn’t matter what stage your hair is in. Of course, there are times when your hair looks great, maybe a couple days after a cut, or when you see a stylist and have it done up all professional-like. Still, it only takes a few days or maybe a week for it to hit another "stage" where it looks like crap again. These stages occur at any length too. Even so, there are people that always just seem to have perfect hair. I don’t know how they do it either, but surely they have bad days too. Don’t they?
I guess I shouldn’t care, really. I’m a guy, and as a guy daily hair maintenance should involve nothing more than running my hands through it and messing it up a little. Then it should settle down and look cool. I’m blessed in some ways; my hairline is in the same place it’s always been, and there’s no gray anywhere. I’ll always have a full head of hair if I want it, and it will always be red. Even when I’m old.
I just wish it would behave.

There’s a new barber school in Midvale. It’s right behind the jewelry store, and a short walk from my apartment. Having the misfortune of looking in the mirror this morning and noting my amusing appearance, I thought maybe a haircut would be just the trick.