#navbar-iframe { height:0px; visibility:hidden; display:none }
Cadw'r Ddysgl yn Wastad
Friday, February 24, 2006
From 1975 to 2006 “HAIR”

I used to cut everyone’s hair. It all started with my Dad who was too cheap to pay a barber and handed me a blunt pair of household scissors and told me to “do a decent job of it”. And I did, which was thoroughly amazing considering, I thought I was going to chop off half of his ear lobe.

Then it was my older brother, who gave me long, detailed instructions backed up with threats of bodily violence. I did fine again, although he had the requisite complaints.

Then my younger brother and sister joined the ranks and everyone was cool with the newest talent bestowed on the family. Except for my Mother, who continued to go to the “stylist” in town who did everyone with the same cut. We are talking rural Canada here people, so you can just imagine the clones running around, bumping into each other at the bank (which smelled like someone’s silo or manure pit) or the grocery store, or the drug store…..

Everyone got his or her haircut, but me. I tried to trim it in the bathroom mirror and did a “not bad” job, but with crappy scissors and no way to check out the back of my head, I would have done better to go with dreds. But my own cut was the only cut I got so sometimes I did some crazy shit like when Farah Fawcett was the big bomb! Oh yeah, I did the Farrah look, and it looked pretty close considering she spent a few hundred for it and I spent about 25 minutes with my head upside down, chopping straight across. NO JOKE!

So as you can well imagine haircuts are not my thing. I have, in fact developed a very real phobia of other people cutting anything off my head.

Where is this going? You ask? I desperately need a hair cut and have done so for about 12 years. I am about to make the big jump and I am terrified by the thought of it. I just know that I will feel foolish and like a “poser” as I will be instantly remarked upon by anyone who knows me (and a lot of people know me). I will want to hide in shame for being so vain and will fight the urge to run back and have my head shaved.

This is so bizarre and yet I cant help it.

Dreds seem like a brilliant plan right now. Nobody would even notice them!