Communication – or lack thereof – is a many splendid thing.
I decided to get the ears clipped a day earlier than the usual at Scores. It meant someone different would be cutting my hair. She asked how I usually had it cut. I said “short” and mentioned that the person who normally cuts my hair does what I thought she called a “two “ on top and a “one” on the side with a fade and uses a razor. I didn’t clarify that she used the razor just on the side.
The first swipe – right over my forehead – made me realize there was a communication problem. At that point, though, the damage was done. I figured I should just set back and enjoy it. It helps, of course, that I can’t see anything without my glasses on.
A lot of thoughts were going through my mind including the fact I always hated crew cuts and butch cuts I had growing up until I was 12 and was able to choose my own style. I tried to make small talk but I confess I was a bit apprehensive about what was taking place on top of my head. I couldn’t see it but from the feel I could tell it was going shorter than I’ve had it in over 40 years.
When she was through, I said thanks, put on my glasses – did not look in the mirror – paid and left.
How bad did I think it was? Well, when I got in my car I didn’t even look in the mirror.
By the time I looked in a mirror, someone else I knew had seen the cut and thought it looked fairly good adding I was always complaining about how hot I got when I was cycling or jogging.
My reaction in finally seeing the hair cut in a mirror was that I had awful big eyebrows now that I had less hair. As for the cut, it didn’t look all that bad. Besides, in four or so weeks it would look different.
I was bracing myself for strange reactions from people but to my surprise they were cordial. Granted, they could be laughing behind my back although a couple of people mentioned it made me look thinner and younger.
Whether it does or not, is superfluous. I’m starting to like it.
I have been getting my hair cut progressively shorter for the past six months. I never had the courage to go much shorter as I was worried that it would look wrong.
It may have something to do with the fact when I was 28 years old my sister-in-law talked me into letting her give me what she called a “perm.” She was studying to become a beautician at the time. Little did I know what she really meant was an Afro.
One thing about thick, wavy hair is that it doesn’t “kink” too well. To make a long story short, I looked like Little Orphan Annie for weeks – but with dark hair.
The miscommunication this time around was a good thing. It’s true about a lot of things in life. We tend to not take chances – especially ones that in the overall scheme of things are reasonable – not as much as because we’re happy in our comfort zones but due to fear rooted in preconceived notions.
At any rate, I now do not look anything like the photo that you see with this column. That is a good – or a bad – thing depending upon your opinion of what I look like.
I like the idea that I will have fairly low maintenance hair. That means I don’t have to worry about the wind blowing my hair. In the morning, it’ll be a breeze combing my hair. As for shampooing it, how could it get any easier?
I really have no complaint about the cut. It’ll just take time getting use to it. Like most of us, I have this mental image of what I look like. More often than not it’s more fantasy than reality. Real short hair, though, was never part of that image.
I do know if I had gone on my regular day to get my hair cut I never would have known what short hair looks on me today as a 53-year-old opposed to as a 10-year-old.
And at the moment the cut is a bit better than OK. If I eventually make the final call and I don’t like it, in a few weeks or so it will be a thing of the past. And if I do like it, the odds are I won’t be complaining about sweating too much because I need a haircut.
I’ll still draw the line at certain things. You will never see me dye my hair. You will never see me with a Mohawk. And you’ll never see me with dreadlocks.
To contact Dennis Wyatt, e-mail dwyatt@mantecabulletin.com
I decided to get the ears clipped a day earlier than the usual at Scores. It meant someone different would be cutting my hair. She asked how I usually had it cut. I said “short” and mentioned that the person who normally cuts my hair does what I thought she called a “two “ on top and a “one” on the side with a fade and uses a razor. I didn’t clarify that she used the razor just on the side.
The first swipe – right over my forehead – made me realize there was a communication problem. At that point, though, the damage was done. I figured I should just set back and enjoy it. It helps, of course, that I can’t see anything without my glasses on.
A lot of thoughts were going through my mind including the fact I always hated crew cuts and butch cuts I had growing up until I was 12 and was able to choose my own style. I tried to make small talk but I confess I was a bit apprehensive about what was taking place on top of my head. I couldn’t see it but from the feel I could tell it was going shorter than I’ve had it in over 40 years.
When she was through, I said thanks, put on my glasses – did not look in the mirror – paid and left.
How bad did I think it was? Well, when I got in my car I didn’t even look in the mirror.
By the time I looked in a mirror, someone else I knew had seen the cut and thought it looked fairly good adding I was always complaining about how hot I got when I was cycling or jogging.
My reaction in finally seeing the hair cut in a mirror was that I had awful big eyebrows now that I had less hair. As for the cut, it didn’t look all that bad. Besides, in four or so weeks it would look different.
I was bracing myself for strange reactions from people but to my surprise they were cordial. Granted, they could be laughing behind my back although a couple of people mentioned it made me look thinner and younger.
Whether it does or not, is superfluous. I’m starting to like it.
I have been getting my hair cut progressively shorter for the past six months. I never had the courage to go much shorter as I was worried that it would look wrong.
It may have something to do with the fact when I was 28 years old my sister-in-law talked me into letting her give me what she called a “perm.” She was studying to become a beautician at the time. Little did I know what she really meant was an Afro.
One thing about thick, wavy hair is that it doesn’t “kink” too well. To make a long story short, I looked like Little Orphan Annie for weeks – but with dark hair.
The miscommunication this time around was a good thing. It’s true about a lot of things in life. We tend to not take chances – especially ones that in the overall scheme of things are reasonable – not as much as because we’re happy in our comfort zones but due to fear rooted in preconceived notions.
At any rate, I now do not look anything like the photo that you see with this column. That is a good – or a bad – thing depending upon your opinion of what I look like.
I like the idea that I will have fairly low maintenance hair. That means I don’t have to worry about the wind blowing my hair. In the morning, it’ll be a breeze combing my hair. As for shampooing it, how could it get any easier?
I really have no complaint about the cut. It’ll just take time getting use to it. Like most of us, I have this mental image of what I look like. More often than not it’s more fantasy than reality. Real short hair, though, was never part of that image.
I do know if I had gone on my regular day to get my hair cut I never would have known what short hair looks on me today as a 53-year-old opposed to as a 10-year-old.
And at the moment the cut is a bit better than OK. If I eventually make the final call and I don’t like it, in a few weeks or so it will be a thing of the past. And if I do like it, the odds are I won’t be complaining about sweating too much because I need a haircut.
I’ll still draw the line at certain things. You will never see me dye my hair. You will never see me with a Mohawk. And you’ll never see me with dreadlocks.
To contact Dennis Wyatt, e-mail dwyatt@mantecabulletin.com
