The Hairs of My Head

Yesterday, I went to the local chop shop here in Mountville to get my hair mowed down to stubble. I have an unusual problem for a 47 year old. My hair grows quickly, and not just out of my ears (like a lot of other aging dudes). Not that I don't have that issue, mind you. Last week I wrote about our CSA where we got over-run with weekly produce. I have the same issue with my mane.

It is as if my follicles are trapped in a teenage timewarp and don't act their age. While most guys, by the time they have seen as many moons as I have, massage and cajole their remaining hair to just hold on--some even rubbing in that nasty Rogaine glub--my hair just grows on blissfully unaware that it is not acting its age.

I have a dilemma when I get my haircut...if I get it cut the way I like it length-wise, it is not too long, before it is too long. So, I got it cut short. The barber hesitated on the top of my head like a downhill skier at the apex of the mountain, asking me if I was sure that I wanted him to ski across and down my head with the clippers. I said, "Do it!" Man, I swore--after the 1960's--I'd never willingly submit to a buzz cut.

Knowing that my wife likes my hair short, gave me confidence that this would not be a run of regret. Plus, by the time she gets back home from her business trip in three weeks, I will need another haircut.

I am thinking about asking Barber-dude if I can put him on a monthly retainer of $ 25 or so where I can stop in and get a touch-up buzz weekly. I wonder if he would grant me special hours...like at 6:30 in the morning on Saturdays. I can't stand waiting. Maybe if he put a couch in his shop...then I could nap until he is ready to cut me like Mick from Rocky.

Here are some great quotes from the original Rocky.

Like this one the best:

Reporter: Where did you get the name, "The Italian Stallion"?
Rocky: Oh I made that up one night while I was eating dinner.

I also get a special bonus when I get my haircut...he buzzes my bushy brows. I can see, I can see! My eyebrows function as visors.

As I looked upon my fallen snow-like hair upon the barber's ground, I recalled Jesus said that God know the very number of hairs on my head (and eyebrows)...and on the floor. Pretty amazing.


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