A Part Used To Run Through It

DIAMETRICALLY OPPOSED EYEBROWS

I never figured God would pay me back for all of the bald jokes I used to dole out to my friends, but I was wrong.  He believes in an eye for an eye; or, a follicle for a follicle.  It happened slowly, over time, so I didn’t notice it at first.  Then I realized that it was more than a little thinning hair, and that it seemed to be falling to my back and re-establishing itself there.  It appeared to be more like a migration.  My back resembles a feral dog with a bad case of mange.  I thought about calling the Discovery channel to do a nature show on it; they could tag a few hairs and follow their migration patterns when they flew south for the winter.  Sigourney Weaver could narrate.  They turned me down as I wasn’t as cute as a penguin and I didn’t drive 18 wheelers across frozen oceans.  I’ve reached the point that style isn’t even an option any more; I refuse to go the comb over route, it’s just too pitiful.  I’ve gone to a short cut on the sides with the top blended in, that way I can just shake my head after getting out of the shower and I’m good to go.  Combing is no longer necessary.  Since I no longer have enough hair to justify a $40 “Styling” at the fancy salons, I’ve been frequenting the budget haircut guys.  They say you get what you pay for, and boy, do I.  This last trip was almost enough for me to seriously consider buying my own Flowbee off of e-bay.

I won’t call anybody out, mainly due to the fact that I probably couldn’t afford any litigation, so let’s just say it’s a not a SUPER-GREAT place to get CUTS and CLIPS.  I realize that these places are usually the starting spot for those trying to fill their resume so that one day they can move up to the Major Leagues (“You did it Darla! You’re going to THE SHOW!”), but I’ve had success there in the past and wasn’t worried.  I should have been.  The girl I got this time must still be finishing up her 10 day class.  That, or she’s taking the online version.  I sat down with my magazine and explained what I wanted.  It isn’t too hard; use the #3 cutter on the sides and blend in the top; as long as it doesn’t stand up straight like Rod Stewart’s hair circa 1979, then I’m OK with it.  She finished the sides and asked for my approval.  I nodded and returned to my magazine.  I paid little attention as she was blending the top in, and when I heard the blow dryer, I knew that we were almost done.  For someone in my situation, the hair dryer is usually used simply as a means to get the hair off of the shoulders and to the floor quickly; I don’t require a lot of hair drying because, well, there’s not much to blow.  She must have seen something towards the front of my head that caught her attention, because at some point she quit moving the hair dryer.  The problem was that when she ceased movement, it was parked about 3/64th’s of an inch away from the crown of my head.  Where most of the thinning is occurring.  It only took about 3 seconds for my bald spot to reach the same temperature as the surface of the sun.  I yanked my head forward, and then she realized what she had done.  “OHMYGODIMSOSORRY!”  she said.  I glanced at my hair in the mirror and it looked good enough for me; I wasn’t being overly critical at the time because my only thought was to escape the clutches of Sweeney Todd and her Ray Gun.  After all, there is a Little Caesars next door, and you could classify those as meat pies.

MY DESTINY?

When I got home I assessed the damage.  The sides aren’t too bad, but the top is a little too Emo Phillips-ish.  I also noticed that the diametrically opposed ends of my eyebrows are still at it; my right eyebrow points to true magnetic north, and my left is searching for Ft. Lauderdale.  I just can’t bring myself to shaving them completely off and drawing them in each morning; I know that at some point I’d forget and the kids would freak out thinking I’m that guy from Fringe. Maybe I’ll just bleach the crap out of them and go for the Mr. Clean look; I don’t know.  I’ve learned that a quality haircut is worth the price.  I’ve also learned that if you get a quality haircut at one of the cheap-o places the person that gave you the cut will be gone the next time you go back; cutting no-hitters in the Big Leagues, no doubt.  Either that or you won’t remember their name, or they won’t be working that day, the list is endless; just understand that you’ll end up with a different person cutting your hair.  There may be hope for me, though.  I’ve heard friends talking about it, and I think 60 Minutes did an expose on it; they have these things now called; appointments.  Maybe I’ll give them a try.