A Precision Haircut

Some might think it unkind to speak of the brilliant nature of a good haircut at the same time I am flogging a book about being bald and creating something called the Bald is Beautiful Initiative.

But life is full of juxtapositions, and this is one of them.

So yes, I just got my hair cut.  And I believe I can make the case for the transformative nature of a good haircut.  (Sort of like a can make the case for the transformative nature of being bald.  But that is for another blog posting …)

Come on.  You know. It seems like you’re suddenly thinner.   Your jaw line is just a wee bit sharper.  And life is demonstratively more in your control.  Shoulders back.  Head up.  Lock and loaded.

I personally have always been a short hair person, with a small stint into long locks around the time of my wedding.  Because that’s precisely the time to be experimenting with who you are … the exact moment when you are trying to convince someone to spend the rest of their life with you.  Regardless, I pulled it up for the wedding, and seemed to pull it up or back most every day between August 1st when we wed and early November when I had it shorn off because it just seemed so pointless.  I mean, I always had it pulled off my face, so why have it at all?

Yet for many years as a young woman, I struggled with waiters asking “… and what would you like, Sir?”  Or strangers telling my father that his son was a great skier.  I didn’t have boobs that announced otherwise, and short hair (at least in the late ’70s and early ’80s) on girls just wasn’t all that common.   But I liked it short, and to this day, when I wear a long wig, I wonder how in the world women can stand to look out from behind a wall of hair.

The man who cuts my hair is named James.  I started going to him close to a decade ago when he was something like 23, because he “got” short hair on women and would make me look sexy and not butch.  When he opened his own salon in 2002, he framed my $10 and hung it on the wall, as I was his first customer.  James is moving to Arizona, which would make me cry except that he is going to fly back to the Bay Area once a month for a few days to cut hair here.

Bless him.

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