Hair - The Long and Short of It!

I'm at Kat Palace, contemplating a haircut. First there's the contemplation, then the action, although, maybe I don't actually pull the trigger, maybe I just end up wearing a hat.

As that famous Irish singer with the funny name (Bono) once remarked, I don't have bad hair days, I have bad hair decades. Still I've been told by people (women) that my hair is "nice," and "super-fine."

I think maybe since I can't change my eyes, my ears, my nose, (although of course with the right plastic surgeon anything is possible - think King of Pop! Or then again, maybe bad example.); since I can't change the ravages of age, can't hide the scars, changing hair styles is a fallback. But when it comes down to it, my hair comes in two modes, messy, and not as messy.

As a wee lad I had a traumatic hair experience - a drastic crew-cut, which made me decidedly un-hip when the world was trying really hard to be hip. At the time, I didn't really know what I was getting myself into. That was the last barber visit for nearly a decade and half.

I have gotten a lot more sanguine about hair. Now I can enter a barbershop or a hair salon, hop on a chair and declare, "Do what you like!" This is not as dangerous as it sounds. As they say, the difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut is about 2 weeks.

Sometimes I have been counseled to bring a photo to sort of guide the cutter. I find this mildly amusing. Does anyone ever bring in a photo of someone older, fatter, shorter, and less appealing than the person bringing the photo? Probably not.

The best instruction I have found: make me look younger, smarter, taller and more dashing. Works every time. Not.