Almost cut my hair? May 25, 2024
I kept thinking about the classic sixties rock song lyric “almost
cut my hair” when I petitioned the local barber for an appointment earlier this
week, and when I showed up, he wasn’t there.
And I was thinking how pathetic all this was after a year of
growing it long again to give it up after the first serious heatwave.
But alas, I’m just not the hippie I once was, and I foolishly
went back yesterday, sat in the chair and waved at my (more silver than) golden
locks and said, “do away with it,” and he did. Later, when I looked at the
damage in the mirror at home, I realized that this silly beard I have sprouted
also needed to go, white as snow, making me feel much older than I already feel
(and am) and so, I cut that off in a mid-day shave.
The beard was not my idea, but inspired by my wife after
seeing the full and amazing beard sported by one of the Jersey City council
men, prompting her to ask, “why can’t you grow a beard like that?”
“Because I can’t,” I said, trying to explain the splotchy
mess that occurs each time I try, growth here, not there, so that from a
distance I look like I have a skin disease.
I can’t even grow a goatee because the bottom part along the
chin comes out snow white, while the moustache part stays dark and I look more
than a little silly. As a compromise, I kept the bottom part, going through the
ritual of trying to keep it trim, hating this white growth on the bottom of my
face because it made me feel as old as I really am.
So, I cut it off as well, and while I might not look any
younger, I feel younger, not having to stare at that white fuzz morning after
morning as I desperately sought to shave around it.
Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about the wrinkles –
age is creeping up, like it or not.
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