Horses in the field,
Corralled by living fences,
Seem to be content.
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Today was barbershop day and thankfully very little Spanish is required to get the style I desire. In fact I bet I could use the same exact wording that I used today at any Supercuts in the states and get the exact same cut; “Numero dos en toto.”
My hair care requirements have just about come full circle. It started with my dad giving me buzz jobs in the backyard when I was a kid, now I walk to somebody’s front yard where they have a small two chair operation going in a small bungalow to get the almost exact same buzz job. My dad didn’t charge me $3, but then again he didn’t trim me with a razor or brush a little baby powder on me when we was finished either.
There were a few hair era’s where I strayed from the simplicity of a simple butch job. In the 70s after my parents divorced, without my dad around, I grew long hair like a lot hippie wanna bees. It wasn’t pretty but at 16 neither were my friends or I.
Then in my 40s when my hair started going grey, for a few years I’d have my hair dyed with henna. But when that stopped taking and my stylist suggested I may want to switch to a permanent dye, I just let my hair go grey and went back to a buzz job.
And it’s not that I don’t care about my appearance. I feel the simple #2 looks a lot better than a lot of the goofy semi-mullets that seem to be in fashion around here.
As an aside, hair on my head is about the only place where I have hair. I barely need to shave and am still quasi hoping one of these days to grow a proper mustache or beard. However, at this point that would probably freak me out as well, figuring the abnormal growth would be a sign of cancer.
Kimme thinks I’m an alien because the few other places where hair is visible on me is under my knees and on my big toes. An alien? I could live with that.
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