I did something really crazy and grew my hair out. How crazy was it? I have kind of straight, kind of curly, kind of wavy Jewfro hair. The kind of hair that’s neither here nor there, just is. As a result, whenever it got to a certain length, it just became this wild, unruly mess.

I’ve only grown it out twice. Once was in high school when I decided to go with long hair as a way of giving a rebel yell and rebelling against your standard upper-middle class conformity. That didn’t work out as it was the wrong time (mid-80’s) in the wrong place (the Main Line) to rebel against conformity by actually doing something non-comformist. In other words, no girls would talk to me. Then I grew it out in college, back in my stoner days, when I wanted to wave my freak flag high. That didn’t work out because I realized I wasn’t that freaky. In other words, no girls would talk to me.

But years and years later, way past the age when you’re supposed to make huge changes in one’s appearance, I decided to grow it out again. For six months. And this time, I got into it. Accepted it’s unruliness and even embraced it. It was a new me. A more laid back me, a more edgier me, and considering that long hair is coming back in style, a hipper me. And I liked the new me. And as far as I knew everyone liked the new me as everyone kept on telling me that they loved the long hair (or so they said). But after six months, it got to be too much.

First off, long hair is a hassle. I always had short hair as much for it’s lack of hassle than for fashion purposes. You just wake up, brush the hair for a few seconds, then head on out. And you never have to worry about the wind. With long hair, it’s not quite so easy. I found myself spending a lot of time combing my hair. I even bought a second brush so I could brush my hair at work if I needed it. I bought conditioner. I used blow dryers. I worried about it. And don’t even get me started on the havoc the wind can cause, especially in a city that has wind as one of it’s trademarks.

The problem is that from day-to-day, even hour to hour, the hair would change. Sometimes it would look fine. Sometimes it would have strands sticking out everywhere and I’d be rocking the Albert Einstein look. Other times it would puff out to the side but have no poof up top and so I’d be rocking the Oompa Loompa look. And other times I’d look in the mirror only to realize I was rocking the Peter Brady look. And sometimes I’d look in the mirror and see the beginnings of a mullet looking back at me. That, of course, must not stand.

So this weekend I decided to make the bold move and get it lopped off. The only question was how. Because while I didn’t like it’s unruliness, I still kind of liked the long-hairness of it, the whole feeling of it being a new me. If I just went to the usual place and get the usual hair cut, all that six months of being a new me would go down the drain. Besides, one thing I always hated about making huge changes to one’s appearance is when you show up for school/work and everyone, and I mean everyone says the same thing: "Oh, you got your hair cut, didn’t you?" Like once is fine, but after the fifth or sixth time I’m over it.

Which left open a whole new option which I never thought I’d ever consider- getting it styled. Now, keep in mind I am so not the styled hair type. For most of my life, I’ve gotten the cheap and quick haircut. I like the cheap and quick haircut. Getting it styled? Well that’s scary. I’m just not the styling kind of guy. And what happens if the style is wrong? Like if I get it cut one way only to walk and discover it’s so totally wrong? It happened a couple of times. Once I went to a stylist and asked for the Alan Hunter hair cut. It lasted one day before my mother took me back to the place to get the mullet portion cut off. Another time my brother and I went to this barber who did some styling, an Italian guy, and at the end of a rather nice cut, he grabbed the hair dryer and proceeded to pouf out the hair and make it all Guido-ish. Needless to say, we couldn’t get home to depouf it fast enough….


we’ll continue the rest of this tomorrow as it’s late and I’m tired and I still have to catch up on my weekend Tivo, a thing made more heartbreaking because Tivo totally fucked up again and missed the first half of the two-part opener of Lost.