Have you ever thought about your hair? Of course you have. We probably all do nearly every day! Whether you’re worried about how your hair looks for school or a date, how much you might be losing, or even trying to remember what you looked like with hair, it’s always a topic for cogitation.
I recently tried No Shave November for the first (and last) time. My students were generous in donating to the local Relay for Life team if I did it, so, with my wife’s permission, I didn’t touch my razor for 30 days. Granted, I don’t need to shave as often as many other men; usually I shave every 2-3 days. You can imagine that I certainly didn’t look like a mountain man by the end of the month, and you’d be correct.
It was an interesting experience. Feeling a breeze blow through what passed for a beard was unusual. Scratching my chin was a bit different. Just looking in the mirror every morning caused me to wonder who the scary guy was looking back at me. Shaving it all off on Dec. 1 was also an experience I never want to repeat - ouch!
Like most of you, I’ve had a variety of hair experiences over the years. When I was a young child, my mom cut my hair. It was efficient, if not flattering. But I still remember the first time I got to visit a barber shop - it was magical! I had a say in how I wanted my hair cut! Okay, not much of one, since most barbers like to cut it close, but I found that that swirling striped pole was a cool place to be.
Like many boys, as a teenager, I thought I’d try growing my hair longer. Because of sports, I could only do that during the fall season when I wasn’t participating in anything. Back then, if a coach asked if your barber was out of town, it was a sign that you needed to have your hair cut before the next day, or you wouldn’t play. We looked sharp on the basketball court and the baseball diamond, and I didn’t mind that.
Trying to grow my hair out was strange. I thought it might improve the looks I had with a face made for radio, but looking back on the pictures with my locks nearly to my shoulders makes me cringe.
And isn’t that true for most of us? Don’t we all have some pictures from our past where we wonder what we were thinking with that hairstyle? For any ladies who grew up in the ‘80s and early ‘90s, you likely have at least one school picture that looked like you might be responsible for the hole in the ozone layer all by yourself, what with how much hairspray was clearly used.
Once I was in college for a while and the women weren’t flocking to me with the long hair, I decided that it was too much work to take care of and went to having whoever cut my hair use a #2 blade and cut it the same all around. It’s been the same ever since. Well, except for the color and where the hairline starts.
When one’s hair starts to go gray, it can be a startling experience. That can’t really be happening, you might think when you spot one for the first time. Maybe I got some paint on it. Except you haven’t painted anything since elementary school, so that can’t be it. Some people choose to color their hair to put off the inevitable. I still remember how crazy it was finally to see my grandma, who had had dark hair for my whole life, stop using her hair dye. Whoa, that was a lot of white!
Seeing my hairline recede was a bit more difficult than any color change. After all, my wife says men grow distinguished with gray hair. But I’ve seen the creeping back. It bothers me a bit, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to just shave off what’s left once it gets to a certain point, but who knows? I never thought I’d try to grow a beard either.
Our hair all comes down to how much time and money we want to spend on it. Some people are very happy spending a lot of time in front of a mirror every morning, and that’s just fine. I’ve gotten to the point where, if my time in front of the mirror involves more than simply running a comb through my hair, it’s time to get a haircut. Who knows? In another decade, I might not even need to take that much time!
Word of the Week: This week’s word is fulgor, which means splendor or brightness, as in, “The fulgor of his forehead was blinding when the sun shone off it.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!