Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

There's something about a woman and her hair that men will never understand. For men, the biggest issue with their hair is having it. They may freak out if they think they're losing their hair, but as long as they still have it they're content to cut it once in a while and leave it go at that. Women, on the other hand, take their hair very seriously. Consider all the conversations we have about it:

I'm having a bad hair day.

I can't do a thing with my hair.

Where do you get your hair cut?

Should I cut my hair short or let it grow?

Do you see how gray my hair is getting?

What color highlights should I get in my hair?

Decorating the living room is easier for some women than figuring out what to do about their hair. And as a Leo, this makes complete sense to me. After all, not everyone sees your living room, but everyday your hair is on display for the whole world to see. There's a lot of pressure there.

I had my hair cut this past Friday. I went all the way to Easton for it, more than an hour from my home. Now granted, my parents still live there so it's easy to justify the long-distance stylist by using the hair cut as an excuse to see mom and dad (or vice versa), but still, I've been going to the same salon for twenty-plus years. That's a bigger commitment lots of people make to their spouses. That's how serious this hair thing is.

This particular cut should have been routine. "Just a trim" is what I had in mind. A trim is a big deal for me. It means I'm letting my hair grow. I never seem to let my hair grow for very long. I get bored too quickly. I think I look better with longer hair but then I see some cute young thing with a super hip, super short, trendy cut and I think I want to chop mine off again and go that route instead. Despite being pretty conservative and set in my ways in most things, I do like to change things up with my hair. And my socks. But that' a different story.

Anyway, I went in for a trim and then I saw the picture hanging on the wall. The picture of the cute young thing with a super hip, cool cut. That's when, on a whim, I told Tim, my stylist, "I like that." He suggested we go for a longer version of "that" and I came out with this:

Okay, it isn't that bad, but you get the idea. I'm not happy with my latest cut. And an unflattering haircut is just about the worst thing that can happen to a woman on a short term basis. No, it's not a terminal illness, it's not giving birth, it's not losing your job, but it's worse than the stomach flu (which is generally only 24 hours and can help you lose weight) or wearing the wrong outfit to a party. Yes, hair grows back, but it could be weeks until you can make yourself presentable again.

In the meantime, you may find me frequently sporting my Phillies baseball cap. The good news is that with this new cut, I no longer look like Tim Lincecum when I wear it.

And smack me around if you ever see me making this face, regardless of the quality of my haircut.