[WARNING: The photos attached to this story contain from-the-waist-up nudity. If you are offended by such things, perhaps you should just go away.]
I was tired of having hair. Driving with the windows rolled down was out of the question and forget about running my fingers through it. Both scenarios would result in a disgusting afro mess. Either I started using product to keep it in line or it was coming off. Those were the two choices. Hair just shouldn’t be so much work. So, it came off.
It’s not that I didn’t think about it. When I was in Kansas last week the humidity overpowered the conditioner that usually calms it down a bit. Visions of shaving my head started entering my thoughts. It became inevitable. Just before I made the final decision, I stared into the bathroom sink in between glances at myself. The face needed a shave as well. It was difficult to picture myself with a shaved head again. I had done it once before.
I went into my office to get some large scissors for the initial cut. There’s was just no way of getting clippers through my hair without giving myself a sloppy chop to begin with. I cut and cut some more. Have you ever grabbed a mass of your own hair and cut it? The sound is somewhat disturbing. It falls somewhere between the ripping of a cotton shirt and fingers down a chalk board.
The top was first. I wanted to at least have a little fun with it. You know, the reverse mohawk and stuff. Hair was all over the place. As much as I tried to get it all in the sink, it ended up on the floor, in my eyes, in my ears, under my finger nails and it clogged my clippers in no time. The amount of hair in the sink was incredible.
I jumped in the shower and did what people do in there. I didn’t need to use much shampoo and the conditioner went untouched. Perhaps I’ll just let it grow out, so I can do it all over again. For the time being, I’m going to enjoy driving with the windows rolled down.