A Little Off The Top

I've never had any great luck with getting my hair cut. Well there is the king of barbers Steve! I would recommend him to anyone! Having to get my hair cut always brings me a little anxiety because I know that the person cutting my hair isn't going to do a good job. I don't always blame the person, I recognize I have very thin and extremely difficult hair. But I think this instance kinda takes the cake.

No man likes to shop at the mall. Let me retract that last statement, Will Green sometimes likes to shop at the mall, I on the other hand do not. So when Deanna wanted to go shopping at JCPenny I thought it would be a great idea to take the opportunity to get a trim. Sitting down in the barber's chair I found myself looking at all of the little pictures of family and the certificate that indicates the the person who holds the very sharp scissors next to your throat is actually licensed to do so. Scotch taped very close to the certificate authorizings this young lady to carry a deadly weapon was a very crisp one dollar bill. "A number one on the side and just clip the top a bit." I told the hair stylist when she picked up her sheers and asked, "What'll it be?" I knew from looking around at the acutraments on her mirror and the incesant need for stylist/client small talk (which is supposed to make you enjoy your experience even if you end up with a crappy-doo) I was not going to like my hair cut and she was very very very fresh out of cosmotology school. I really didn't mind though. One can learn a great deal about a person by their style of small talk and in truth it is a rarity that I actually like my cut immediately after the barber finishes choping me up. After it grows out a bit and doesn't look so sliced I beging to like it.

"BBBBUUUUUZZZZZ!" She clicked on the power to the sheers capped off with the number one guard. She delicately placed the vibrating clippers next to my ear just above where the arm of a pair of glasses would sit and began to cut my hair. I've always enjoyed that first cut in the barbers chair! Unfailingly the goose bumps rise up all over my body, betraying the stoic masulinity that men wear while getting a hair cut, and gives me a little shiver. She started off slow, just taking a little hair at first and said, "Wow! Your hair is really thicker than it looks!" Then plowed a fuller north to the top center of my head and stopped. As she came around to stand between me and the mirror the look in her eyes revealed that she realized she had just made a mistake. One that I will walk around with for the next few months! I said, "Normally I leave a little bit on the top to wear messy." She whispered, "I'm so sorry!" I looked around and noticed everyone in the place stairing at the two of us. I don't know if I've ever seen as much fear on someones face. She was terrified! So, though my stomach hurt at the shock of about to be bald again for the first time since 2002, I casually said, "You know, sometimes you just get sick of it and it just has to go." And she began again, without a word and very gently, sheering the rest of my hair from the top of my head. It's been nice to feel the cool air again.