Anatomy of a Haircut
Come on....you knew this was coming.
Thanks to all who expressed such interest in my shorter hair. The fascination has led me to give a brief history of the status of my hair.
Birth: no hair
Ages 3 months - 3 years: Blonde, and I mean cotton-blonde, almost white. Either my parents doctored my old photos, or I lost significant cuteness points once my sister was born.
Ages 4 - 10: For reasons unknown, my mother chooses to comb my hair straight down. Since I don't have much control over my appearance at this point (read: jams, overalls, shoes from Stride-Rite), I don't complain much. The pictures, however, fill me with shame.
Ages 11 - 14: I discover the power of the part. Unfortunately, this is junior high, so everyone looks ridiculous.
Ages 15 - 18: As an act of rebellion against my Air Force-veteran, A&M Corps of Cadets alumni father, I begin to grow my hair out. But because I still live "under his roof," it never gets out of control.
College: Partly because of laziness, partly because of apathy (a more serious form of laziness), and partly because I was in college, I never cut my hair. By junior year, it is out-of-control, longer than Justin's is now. My friends take to calling me a big, dumb animal, but that may not have been because of the hair. My only saving grace with my father is that I resemble Neil Young, and he has a penchant for Crazy Horse albums. Plus, I was paying for school at this point, so he had no real complaints. By senior year, my nickname becomes "The Dude." The Lebowski reference is due in part to the hair, but also to my custom of wearing a robe and slippers to morning classes. Shortly before graduation, I cut several inches off. Some might think that this was a symbolic gesture, representing the maturity that comes with ending an undergraduate education, but this could not be further from the truth. Summers in Texas are hot, and long hair makes them hotter.
Present Day: So, when I arrived in Austin, I thought that my hair was short, because it was comparatively. I mean, I could wear hats with ease (which I obviously did) and the hair was usually dry by lunchtime, which was nice. But, over the break, I decided that I wanted a change - I'd had shaggy hair since my junior year in high school.
So, now much of it is gone. But there are many advatages. As Will points out, now I am aerodynamic for when I run in a wind tunnel. Plus, my hair is dry after one towel run. I can't remember the last time that happened. But don't worry, though mu superhuman strength is now gone (one of the risks you run when you cut your hair), my acerbic wit and general distaste for common people remains. I am still the same person I was, though I can no longer tear phone books in half.
Thanks to all who expressed such interest in my shorter hair. The fascination has led me to give a brief history of the status of my hair.
Birth: no hair
Ages 3 months - 3 years: Blonde, and I mean cotton-blonde, almost white. Either my parents doctored my old photos, or I lost significant cuteness points once my sister was born.
Ages 4 - 10: For reasons unknown, my mother chooses to comb my hair straight down. Since I don't have much control over my appearance at this point (read: jams, overalls, shoes from Stride-Rite), I don't complain much. The pictures, however, fill me with shame.
Ages 11 - 14: I discover the power of the part. Unfortunately, this is junior high, so everyone looks ridiculous.
Ages 15 - 18: As an act of rebellion against my Air Force-veteran, A&M Corps of Cadets alumni father, I begin to grow my hair out. But because I still live "under his roof," it never gets out of control.
College: Partly because of laziness, partly because of apathy (a more serious form of laziness), and partly because I was in college, I never cut my hair. By junior year, it is out-of-control, longer than Justin's is now. My friends take to calling me a big, dumb animal, but that may not have been because of the hair. My only saving grace with my father is that I resemble Neil Young, and he has a penchant for Crazy Horse albums. Plus, I was paying for school at this point, so he had no real complaints. By senior year, my nickname becomes "The Dude." The Lebowski reference is due in part to the hair, but also to my custom of wearing a robe and slippers to morning classes. Shortly before graduation, I cut several inches off. Some might think that this was a symbolic gesture, representing the maturity that comes with ending an undergraduate education, but this could not be further from the truth. Summers in Texas are hot, and long hair makes them hotter.
Present Day: So, when I arrived in Austin, I thought that my hair was short, because it was comparatively. I mean, I could wear hats with ease (which I obviously did) and the hair was usually dry by lunchtime, which was nice. But, over the break, I decided that I wanted a change - I'd had shaggy hair since my junior year in high school.
So, now much of it is gone. But there are many advatages. As Will points out, now I am aerodynamic for when I run in a wind tunnel. Plus, my hair is dry after one towel run. I can't remember the last time that happened. But don't worry, though mu superhuman strength is now gone (one of the risks you run when you cut your hair), my acerbic wit and general distaste for common people remains. I am still the same person I was, though I can no longer tear phone books in half.
posted by The Humble Best at 10:55 AM
2 Comments:
I personally think you look more aerodynamic, you must have lowered your drag coefficient considerably.
oops, I meant to identify myself for that last comment--Tobey
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