Hairoics

Another pun for a title as I follow the example set by my collaborator Glen's posts. I am a new man today. A fresh and bold individual, facing the world with renewed confidence and vigor. Because I, after at least two months, purchased for myself a hair cut. It's a good cut. Short, low maintenance. I begin to understand the traditionally female fascination with the stylist. It really does make a differenc in one's outlook. Wheeee!

When I was a child I had blonde hair. I was proud of it. I loved it. Adults consistently complemented my downy locks. Then my hair got browner. And greasier. And browner. And greasier. By the time I was in junior high, I had a greasy, cowlicked tangle of bland brown hair. But this year, I've noticed my hair becoming lighter. And when I've described its color as brown, folks have dissented. I'd like to think that what is occuring is a magical reblonding. But the white hairs that have appeared here and there tell a different story. And today, as I examined my shorne hair in my lap, I was able to pick out a fairly large number of crackers. Never have I witnessed so much unabashed honkey-ism in my hair color. So it begins. I am now undoubtedly on the (hopefully) long descent into white hair.

There is a silver lining to this loss of color. I have a young face, and a bit of greying may do a little to give me that distinguished look. Yeah, that's it!

One more thing: I went to a place with a semi-pretentious name like David Concept Studios. Here in the city the predeliction for punny salon names seems less prevalent than in the suburbs, where one always has a choice between Hair Today, E-clips, and A Cut Above. I wonder if any of the owners who decided to go with "Hair Today" considered the ill favor of its implication: "Gone Tomorrow."