esrosedotblog

I went to get a haircut yesterday.

I had been doing it myself for quite awhile.

It started over some personal shit with my old hair cutter. I told myself that it was just that I wanted it short and so I went for the shaver.

And that is true. I did like it short. And then, recently, I was done with it.

I let it grow some and went to a whatever we call them now.

I went to a barber until I was in my thirties. Then I went to Norman who was a stylist. At that time, hair was a big deal. Not because it was long. We were over that. But because hair was a big deal.

Everyone had to have razor cuts or something. Barber barbers were left in the dust.

This is also the era when hair care products became something one bought in a shop not in the drug store.

Then for me it was all over. I had enough. I went to the buzz like a lot of other men. I did have relapses from time to time but basically I do not like anyone fucking with my hair. No reason. I don't like it. Personal space maybe. I don't know.

A loss of control? Maybe.

A bit too much in the direction of a femme outlook? Low on butch. Maybe but I don't think so.

I just don't like anyone messing with me.

But I got to know this guy and felt more secure. He did a good job. Listened and "did what he was told". I suppose it has to do also with the fact that I have thinning hair. That sounds better than balding, eh? It is actually pattern baldness. A retrenchment.

So anything that makes me look a little less bald and a little more hirsute, is good.

I am happy.

Labels: hair