Monday, September 6, 2010


          Most of my life I’ve hated my hair. The problem is that it’s really good hair; it just would never cooperate with the fashion of the day. My hair is thick and wavy. It is not the kind of hair that looks good long, and long is what hair was supposed to be when I cared about conforming to the styles of the day. Before that, when I was a youngster, my hair was at the mercy of a couple of local barbers who understood neither my hair in particular nor fashion in general. I spent 12 years with a bad haircut, and thought the whole time that I had bad hair.
          I didn’t really come to terms with my hair until I was 40. At 40 I began to realize how good my hair was, because most of the guys I knew who I’d always thought had good hair were beginning to lose theirs. Mine was holding its own. I no longer needed nor wanted it to be long. I’d found someone who knew how to cut it. Suddenly I had the best hair on my block. This only lasted for a few weeks. Now there is a new fashion it seems. Bald is the new great hair. Bald is the new sexy head, the new standard for virility, vitality, and appeal. My lush locks are passé once again, and once again my life is defined by bad timing.  

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