my head oh my head
Feb. 2nd, 2002 11:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wickedfleaMy head feels weird. Like, you know, the outside of it. Probably has something to do with that haircut I got this afternoon.
I hate haircuts with a passion. This probably goes back to my early childhood, when I had really curly hair. I always wanted to let it get all fro'd out so I could hide stuff in it, like a box of animal crackers or a paddleball or a pack of smokes or something. I always got dragged to the barber shop before it got to be a sufficient length, though.
When I got to be old enough to dodge the fools who wished to trim my locks, I stopped getting haircuts altogether. Between the years of 1990 and 1994, I don't think I had a single haircut. I had some serious hair.
Eventually I got tired of being looked at like I was from another planet and got it all chopped off. Though I've generally tried to keep it off my shoulders since then, I still hate getting haircuts so much that I usually only end up getting about two or three a year. This means that I walk around looking like Linus most of the time, but what the hell fuck it I don't give a damn. It's the just-after periods that get me. I always feel like my head's freezing, and I have to deal with the "Wow, you lost five pounds!" comments from everybody.
If I had any sense at all, I'd shave my head and be done with this whole hair nonsense, but I'm afraid I might have an ugly head. What if I've got one of those Gorbachev deals? Of course, I suppose I could decorate it by painting symbols and slogans on it, but that's really not my style; I'll leave that to the hipsters and inmates. Besides, I'd have another maintenance problem on my hands then, because I'd have to keep shaving it and waxing it or shining it or whatever the fuck it is that one does with a bald head.
Maybe one day I'll make peace with my hair. Probably right around the time it all falls out.
I hate haircuts with a passion. This probably goes back to my early childhood, when I had really curly hair. I always wanted to let it get all fro'd out so I could hide stuff in it, like a box of animal crackers or a paddleball or a pack of smokes or something. I always got dragged to the barber shop before it got to be a sufficient length, though.
When I got to be old enough to dodge the fools who wished to trim my locks, I stopped getting haircuts altogether. Between the years of 1990 and 1994, I don't think I had a single haircut. I had some serious hair.
Eventually I got tired of being looked at like I was from another planet and got it all chopped off. Though I've generally tried to keep it off my shoulders since then, I still hate getting haircuts so much that I usually only end up getting about two or three a year. This means that I walk around looking like Linus most of the time, but what the hell fuck it I don't give a damn. It's the just-after periods that get me. I always feel like my head's freezing, and I have to deal with the "Wow, you lost five pounds!" comments from everybody.
If I had any sense at all, I'd shave my head and be done with this whole hair nonsense, but I'm afraid I might have an ugly head. What if I've got one of those Gorbachev deals? Of course, I suppose I could decorate it by painting symbols and slogans on it, but that's really not my style; I'll leave that to the hipsters and inmates. Besides, I'd have another maintenance problem on my hands then, because I'd have to keep shaving it and waxing it or shining it or whatever the fuck it is that one does with a bald head.
Maybe one day I'll make peace with my hair. Probably right around the time it all falls out.
