scruffy do

My hair is getting longer and the blonde streak that graces the left side (my left) of my head seems to have actually turned white. There are no dark roots that I can see sprouting up under the white, which means I am either gray there, permanently genetically altered or seeing things. None of which bodes well for me.

The care of one's hair is something that I do not possess as a passion. I like to cut it, I like to wash, but I hate the manicure process that is required everyday to send off the right signals that I am a certain type of person in society. When I am at home the hair is a jumbled mess. It's flying everywhere, sometimes wrapped up in a bandana or stuck up under some hat of the day. I don't wear hats well due in part to my large noodle. Having a huge head makes for a clown like appearance when hats grace my head. My head is big. Figuratively and literally. Sometimes I am amazed that a hat can be forced down over it.

The hair is a mess and it's time for a cut. I love getting my hair cut. For all of the lack of maintenance, I do appreciate getting my hair reinvented. Hair is one of the few things on your body that you can drastically change about your appearance and it's not permanent so I try to mix it up quite a bit. I have sported some pretty colorful do's in my day. There was the long hair of my youth which was more a result of a barber stabbing my head with scissors and me not wanting to go get my hair cut again than a fashion choice. I have had half my head shaved and the other long. I have had a quasi-mullet, a buzz cut, bald, a shag and some different color combinations to accompany it all. It's been a lot of fun. I'm sure that there have been great opportunities lost due to my do.

Getting you hair cut should be a simple process. It shouldn't cost much and it's a proven fact that you will not see the hair you were daydreaming about as you came in on top of your head as you walk out. That's part of the gamble that makes getting your hair done so special, you never know what you are going to look like or how it will affect the rest of your life. I will admit to having has some bad haircuts and I look back in surprise at how emotionally involved I got in my reaction. I am still alive, months later the hair took on a different look and yet, I live. Besides, the worst hair cut you will ever have will uncover a lot of telling information about you as a person. It shows you how adept you are at hair styling; which products do what, how much to add and when and what works for you and what will never work for you.

Sadly, there are people out there that feel that a perm will look on them. I have never seen one that worked and I think that smell that surrounds them is their dissatifaction. I have seen people cut off three feet of hair (in fact, every woman has this story of her hair being "down to blah, blah, blah... And then I cut it off) and I have seen people add three feet of hair. Meanwhile cancer survivors are walking around in a scarf. I have known people that have kept the same hair cut for decades. Never wavering from the belief that this is their hair and this is what they know how to maintain, are willing to maintain and are pretty sure that this is the best "look" for them.

The hairdresser is really a god. A small god-like human who's job it is to reform your life with a few choice subtractions. It's their job to find what is wrong with your life, wash it, trim it and then add gel. They keep your life on the table and massage your scalp to within an inch of your life, they force commentary, add compliments about your maintenance ability, your genetics and scold you for the other areas of your life where you are deficient. They stand closer to you than you would normally allow a stranger to stand and they do it with sharp objects and the next two months of your life in their hands. They can multi-task with your life in one eye and steely determination and focus in the other. I can't brush my teeth and take a piss without dropping my toothbrush in the toilet, their skills just fascinate me.

I am getting my hair cut by a woman in a near by town who I know is getting close to the end of her life on this planet. Infested with cancer, she chooses to fuck the treatments which would keep her in a bed for the next two years with only death at the end of it, so she can stay in her shop, cutting hair and sharing her passion for luxury cars. She has decided that she would be happier in life if she hangs out with women she call close friends, even though she only sees them for 8 hours a year. She would rather surround herself with barbicide, the sweet smell of a new perm, hair gel and hair spray than be stuck in a truly sterile atmosphere where everything is designed to make you live, but not make you pretty. It's that kind of punk rock attitude toward life that I appreciate in someone. Her hair says it all; tall, colorful, moving in all directions and perfectly textured to scare you away from her shop. If you're timid, stay away. You will get no subtle hair cut here and you are never right and you DO NOT know what you want or what looks best on you. That will be decided by the goddess of Aquanet.

I am thinking that my hair should reflect the season. Something colorful and something that says, "Yeah, So! I have a big head, what of it?"