For the better part of my life, I’ve been the straight laced, short haired type of guy. The moment I could see my forelocks was the moment I got my hair cut. Electric clippers, barber, who cares. Off it came.
As you can see by the self portrait at left, something new has been add to my life. Specifically a lot of hair.
Now why am I doing this? I don’t know.
Too lazy to cut it myself, too cheap to have it done? Maybe.
A statement of some sort? Hell no.
Because I like it long?
Here’s the thing. It’s about half way down my shoulder blades now. It does a good job covering my face in the mornings. And along with the bonus of an instant not seeing my accused hideousness, I also look like a Serverus Snape type character. Which is kind of cool.
Slightly combed and bulging out at the sides ain’t that bad, either.
It gets in the way.
It tangles up.
I swear the ends merge together into a massive strand.
I need to get it cut right now!
I don’t know when I let it start growing out. I wanted to say last summer, but I remember when I was fiddling with my pretend Krampus picture (right) I had a good hunk of hair then. Which means I’ve been having it grow out for better than a year.
Can that be right? It’s hard to believe I’ve put up with it for this long.
All on whim.
Man, how much of my life has been fashioned by whim? I started this blog on whim. I became a writer on whim.
It’s been an interesting experience. For
instance, I’ve been referred to as ma’am three times. Twice by the
same person. It’s really funny, as I tend to have the makings of a
beard on my face.
When it happens, at no point am I offended. I tell the mistaken party that I’m asking for it keeping my hair like this. In away I am.
In the end, it’s been worth it. I went from being a man who didn’t know what it was like to have long hair to one who does. It’s an experience. Even the odd ones are worth it.
At least some times.
(If you think this has been a rambling, pointless blog post, you should have seen the first draft. Woof.)