'Shear' Madness

My last hair cut was on December 19. I don't shave at home. I can easily be mistaken for Wolverine...

Thankfully for me, my face has not yet matured to the point where I have hair growing at every square nanometer. At the same time, however, this means that my hair growth can be a bit sparse, which makes it look even stranger sometimes. But I don't care; if I cared, my last trip to the barber wouldn't have been on December 19.

I've never been one to rebel too much (that I can recall), but as it relates to my hair, I think I've been rebelling for a few years now- rebelling against all the friends who insist on telling me when it's time for me to have a trim. I mean, how dare you tell me when it's time to cut MY hair? You don't see me telling you when you're overdue a nose-pluck or a pimple-pop, so why are you so concerned about my hair?

I'll share a joke from a comedy I watched about a decade ago, and to this day I haven't forgotten it- "We don't swim in your toilet, so please don't pee in our pool!" Same concept applies.

Sadly, I do start to feel bad at work- the guys here seem to go to the barber every other day, and I don't know how they take it. It's funny- for such a homophobic society, there are a few situations in which it's OK for a man to be unnaturally close to another man: a passenger sitting in front of the conductor in a minibus, the pillion rider on a motorcycle, and a man at the barber. Nobody really likes sitting in front of the conductor (if for no other reason, his knee can find itself in a very precious place that's not at all reserved for him). Very few people I know have ever ridden pillion. But men just love the barber! It's crazy!

That said, I wanna keep my job. And I think I have a mental counter which records the number of times someone at work asks me when I'm gonna cut my hair. Right now, the count's at 4. I think it's time.

I guess barber's gotta eat too. But I can tell you from experience, Hair-A-Lot™ works!