Some Days in the Life - Bad Haircut
I headed out, on a quest... a quest for a haircut. (Cue Doors music.)
It took me to South Portland, which is a long ways away, but there are lots of evening salons and barbershops to choose from there. So I started looking for a promising one. And looking. And looking.
Everyone was booked solid. Well, that made sense. So I went to the last, best hope. I went to... the Mall.
Yup. There were openings there, at Regis. My hairstylist was a blond bob-cut girl, quite attractive, with ice blue eyes, a tight sweater and lips that looked completely painted on. Her name was Terri, she was from Michigan, she had lived under the shadow of one of the O's in the Hollywood sign in Los Angeles for a while, but she wasn't an actress and didn't want to be one, but L.A. was so artificial and she wanted trees and places to hike so she moved to Maine which she loves and the winters weren't all that bad and besides, wintertime lets you do other things like ski and she and the girls she hangs out with liked to hot tub in the cold anyhow and this gave her a chance to be a hairstylist which she likes, because waitressing wasn't much fun, and it was hard to find work because of all the actors, you know?
My part of this conversation, for the record, was "Eric," "Fort Kent, originally," "up in New Hampshire," and "really?"
And then... she was done. I looked at my hair.
My hair and I fight a regular, pitched battle. It's amazingly straight, and moderately thick. As a result, it's hard to find a haircut I really like. It can usually grow out all right (the picture in the corner of the screen isn't all that bad, hairwise), but generally my hair, when freshly cut, looks like Riker's from Star Trek: The Next Generation, but not in a good way.
This... didn't look like that.
Do you remember that really horrible picture of Mike Myers from when he was a regular on Saturday Night Live? In the opening montage -- he's sitting at a bar and he turns to look at the camera, grinning? And his hair looks like someone just didn't like him?
That's more or less what my hair looks like. With a trendy razor undercut for the base of my neck and the sides. So, I look like Mike Myers if he were a tragically hip Lesbian. Except, of course, that Lesbians generally make this look good, and I sure don't.
It was also a haircut that no amount of recutting would fix. I would need to shave it off entirely to make it look good. But bald headed, I'd look like a Russian Bad Guy Professional Wrestler.
"I like it," Terri announced. "You look good like this."
"Oh... um... yeah," I said.
I paid her and headed out, and glanced in mirrors and storefronts as I walked. An overweight thirty-one year old who was trying to look twenty-two and 'hip to the kids' looked back.
I did the only rational thing. I bought new sunglasses. Putting those on, I look like Heavy #2 from a Jackie Chan flick.
I can cope with that.