Haircuts

You know that you needed a haircut when afterwards people you normally never talk to comment on your hair. “Yep, got the summer cut!” I told one such person today. To another I quipped, “Oh, you like it? My ears certainly do!” After a few similar comments my response devolved into more of an Eeyore-esque admission, “Well, I suppose it was time.”

It definitely was time. I had so much hair I had started brushing it! I had stopped using the good shampoo simply because I didn’t want to waste the copious amounts needed to get a good lather. The hair-behind-the-ear-tuck had become my fidget of choice. My hair had gotten so long that I now have a tan line from where my hair used to be. It was definitely time.

There’s something strange about haircuts that always gives me something to talk about. Maybe it has to do with the twenty minutes of staring at yourself in the mirror… all the while having a five minute conversation with a stranger stretched out over the full amount of time. As painful as that is, I still prefer it to the newer type places where they have a big screen showing ESPN and they face you to it like you’re some sort of incapacitated drooler - “Look, it’s your favorite show!” – while you’re left to wonder what’s happening on that head of yours. Poor choice of words, perhaps, but you know what I’m talking about.

There are also the places that offer the big reveal at the end. I guess the ESPN places fit into this category too, but here, I mean the places that turn you towards the people waiting. It’s like being put on display, high up on the hair dresser chair. I feel like I should smile and approvingly cast down towards the audience below as if to say, “This! This is what you have to look forward to! Patience has its rewards.”

Then when they’re done they slowly spin you around for the big reveal, "So, what do you think?" I always feel obligated to say it looks great even if I don't think it does. I figure they're the professional not me. I don't want to offend such a skilled artisan by criticizing the fruits of their labor. Plus, it's just hair. Double plus, what would I say? "Oh, this just isn't right at all."

Even if you’ve gotten to watch yourself the whole time, there is still the big Ta-Da moment, I suppose. This is when they hold the mirror up so you can see the back. Recently, I've used this brief moment every couple of months to check up on my bald spot. I'm pretty sure the hairdresser isn't expecting the look of horror on my face as I'm frantically searching the mirror in their hand, but that's what they get.

They usually jump in with "You like it?" before I've actually had a chance to look, so I have to praise them for the unknown. But as I walk out into the fresh summer air, my ears definitely like it and it's then that I first think to myself, "Yeah, I suppose it was time."