Unmerciful photo by Karen
But it has to be done—have you looked at old men who are sloppy about hair grooming? So when we moved to Frisco, I had the new experience of going out to get a haircut. I went with some criteria: 1) It had to be fast—I know it’s not fun for the barber, but it’s not fun for the barbee either. 2) It has to be acceptable—if you’ve seen my hair, you know no one can turn me into Brad Pitt. Just make me look decent. 3) You have to manage the gross stuff—the wild eyebrow hairs and the ears and any random shoot popping out of nowhere. 4) Give me a reasonable price—I want a barbershop, not a spa. 5) I need Karen’s approval when I get home—obviously.
When you think about it, there’s a lot of vanity tied up in hair. My entry into the land of baldness was not a smooth landing. When I was 18 years old, a barber laughed while he was cutting my hair and told me I was going to be bald before I was 21. I didn’t really believe him until I was in my early 30’s and I saw a Christmas photo of me opening a present, shot from above and behind. There was no hair on the top of my head! Reversely, think about the gift of beautiful hair. I was sitting in the bleachers at a high school baseball game one time—the girl in front of me had lustrous brown hair. Little flecks of reds and purples danced off of her hair in the sunlight. It was more beautiful than high school baseball. Beautiful hair is easy to envy because there’s a lot of ugly hair out there too. Remember the wonderful O. Henry story where the wife sold her hair and her husband bought her a brush? We prize hair.
Here is the balance: Beauty is fleeting. We don’t look that good for very long. There is something sad about people who try desperately to hold on to youthfulness. Hair, like skin, is only young once. Putting too much value on outer beauty stunts the growth of inner beauty. It is just a haircut.
How often does a man need a haircut? Having no idea what other men would say, I vote six to eight weeks (that’s why I ask them to cut it short). I like barbers better than dentists or doctors, but it is still somebody operating on you. The fewer the operations, the better.
I have been to five barbershops in the Frisco area. The Iranian was the most interesting, but he is the farthest away. All four other barbers were women. I went once to a barber school, where it was a student who cut my hair while a supervisor moved up and down the rows of barber chairs. The young woman who cut my hair seemed like an amalgam of a hundred different girls I taught. I bought it as a Group-on, two for one, but I don’t think Karen wants me to go back for the second. Even I could tell it was a bit ragged—and she was slow.
I guess I have settled on Brittany—she’s nice, she’s quick, she’s thorough, and she works a half mile from my house. I have thought I should care more, be more meticulous about who cuts my hair and how they do it, but I don’t have it in me. I wear a hat just about whenever I go outside, and the only thing that impresses Karen about my hair is if it is clean and short.
Haircuts in heaven? I am almost sure not.
Dallin, I used to shave my head using a number 2 or 3 cutting blade while standing on the back patio. A quick broom of cuttings into the grass and finished. No comb needed.
Hysterical , I think Karen and I are soul mates. Being an artist, I knew I could cut hair just by “seeing ” it. What a mistake. I love that your wife said enough is enough. When my honey retires, that’s it. I’m done and guess what, in Southern California, you pay at least $70. For a haircut. Which turns me to another subject, “women’s work”. Capitalism and the indentured servant, “women”.
Love,
Gretch
Haha! Yeah, you and Karen would get along. Hope your husband appreciates what he’s got. It’s not easy out there in the barbershop world!