On the day after my beautiful wife and I exchanged our vows, I decided to grow out my hair. So I didn’t get a haircut for 2 years.
You can imagine the process. At first the hair began to creep down to the top of my ears. Then the ears started to become less visible over time and the back got thicker and thicker. The top was too heavy to spike up anymore and so I just parted it.
During the beginning of the in-between stages, I looked a lot like Ferris Bueller. The hair of course, not my face. As a Cosmetology Instructor I am amazed at this phenomenon. A client will believe that the picture they bring in will be the insurance that their face will change to look just like what ever celebrity is on the page. But I knew that I didn’t look like Ferris Bueller.
Going to work everyday with fellow hair professionals and aspiring students was interesting to say the least. And you can imagine the exposure of my growing hair to some of our more “mature” clients. This subjected me to multiple observatory comments and discriminating viewpoints daily. “You growing your hair out?” “Does your wife know about this?” “How long are you going to grow it?”
Because of all this criticism, I decided to keep growing in until I had enough hair to donate to the Locks of Love foundation. It needed to be at least 10″ long in the removed ponytail. This hair would then be made into a wig for children who had lost their hair. Once I started to announce this change in motivation, the comments changed to a more positive nature.
The hair continued to grow. When the length hit my neck, I resembled one of those people that took care of the King’s horses during the middle ages. This haircut is call a Page Boy. Not attractive at all. I think I know why they kept those guys in the stables.
Finally I had some long hair. You might want to say it was like the Euro version of Jesus, like in the velvet paintings found over the mantle in any trailer South of the Mason Dixon. Wait, do trailers have mantles? Most people would say that it did not resemble those heavenly locks but was more akin to Charles Manson. This could explain why women would grab their children tightly when passing by me in the mall.
My wife was not fond of the longer version. She likes it longer but NOT that long. I am convinced that I know the real reason she wanted me to cut it off. You see, as we would go out to dinner together and be seated, many a young handsome waiter would saunter over to our table and with flirtation in his voice say “What would you ladies like for dinner?” Really……? I have a goatee, sort of….
I had to go out of town for a hair cutting class. While staying in hotel, I decided to use one of those tiny blow-driers that are attached to the wall. Almost instantly, some of my hair was sucked up into the back of the dryer. It was at this point that I decided to go ahead and volunteer myself to be a model for the cutting class. They put my hair into about 12 rubber banded ponytails and snip, snip…
Like Samson, I felt all my strength leave my body. OK, that didn’t happen but, it was a huge change for me. My wife was really excited to see the result when I came home from the trip. I am glad that some child benefited from my loss. This was of course after all the grays were segregated out. Little kids don’t want to look old!
Sometimes I get the urge to grow it out again. The voice in my head says, “If you hadn’t cut it off, I would be so long right now!” My wife is my stylist and so……