In an attempt to stop fearing change, I took some initiative and decided that it was time to face a grim reality of my life: I was losing my hair. And to ensure that I'd never be a comb-over guy, there was only one solution: buzz it off. All of it.
This was a traumatic day. Tears may have been shed. I may have stayed at home sick for a few days. But after some long, lonely hours spent sulking in the bathroom, screaming at the heavens, "WHY????", I came around to the fact that although oblong, my head had a relatively non-misshapen look to it and I'd survive to breathe another day with no skull dress. Since that time, I've been regularly buzzing it off every month or every few months. I get sick of the shaggy locks and typically make a somewhat snap decision to get rid of it. Most of the time I'm a DIY'er, and I take my trimmers out and take care of business on my own. Monday night was no different.
As I stood in my bathroom, letting my luscious coif fall quietly in the sink, I felt a distinct slip of the clipper guard. It was the first time I was using Team Seath's clippers that I'd borrowed earlier in the week, so they were a little finicky. But I felt like I caught the guard in time and just kept on rolling. I looked at myself in the mirror, impressed (as per usual) with the success that I had all ears in place and there was no blood running from my neck. Job well done, T. Well done.
The next day at school I got the usual, often exaggerated responses from both students and colleagues. Some mourned the new look while others embraced it. The kids all used it as a way to suck up and tell me I looked more handsome. One kid even said, "You actually look like a man!" Thanks, kid. Yes, that's an F on your report card.
However, as I was finishing up my afternoon block of English, one kid kinda sputtered out, "Did you do that on purpose?" Oblivious, I responded in the expected way: "Did I do WHAT on purpose?" "The spot on the back of your hair! So cool!" Laughter then rippled around the room.
Still confused, I asked them what they meant. A kid offered to take a picture on his iPhone, which I decided to reject, seeing as how I'm the cell phone nazi and all. But then one kid, who was at the whiteboard with a marker, said, "Mr. M! It looks like this!" He proceeded to draw a sort of neck-line picture of my hair with a MASSIVE short piece buzzed out of it. Like, the size of a cigarette package. I thought they were joking, so I asked one of my more trustworthy students. With a huge smile, he just nodded when I asked if it was true. Remember that "slip" of the guard? Ya. Not so much a slip. A BIG GASH.
So I'm currently walking around with what looks like a slot for a 3inch floppy disk drive in the back of my skull. In all the times I've buzzed 'er all off, never once have I had such a fiasco. I guess there's a first time for everything. Makes me think of a skunk-like buzz cut I got when I was a kid at the hands of my dear mother.
In other, less self-deprecating news, I saw a guy siphoning gas out a work truck using his MOUTH as a suction device. I'm also off to Blind Man Massage in about 5 minutes so I need to run. I love you China. I just hope you can love my awesome haircut in return. Until again, mes amis, much love...
T
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