I went to see Anneke this morning. She is the crazy Hungarian who does the Cakes' hair. I've been going to her for about a year now. When I sat down in the chair, Anneke said, "What do you want to do?" I told her "Cut it all off!" She was stunned since I've been getting my hair done with it just long enough on the top to brush and short on the sides. I told her make it really short all over. To tell you the truth I have no idea why, but that's what I told her.
Anneka was hesitant and kept saying "Are you sure, that's what you want?" I answered in the affirmative. She whipped out her clipper and went to work. The first pass was up the left side of my head and over the top. There was no going back. I was committed.
As she buzzed my head, strains of David Crosby singing "I Almost Cut My Hair" was my earworm. I watched in the mirror as my fine gray, white actually, head of hair disappeared. The hair on the top of my head was about an inch long and after each pass of the clippers it fell on my shoulders or on the floor. Anneka changed clippers and took it down even more. I had flashes of myself in the mirror, short glimpses of my hair when it touched my shoulders in the early 70's, long enough for a short pony tail, of course it was dark brown in those days. I saw myself when I had it Gordon Gekko style, slicked straight back. Hairstyle after hairstyle flicked through my mind until she finished. (In a very short 8 minutes.)
I looked in the mirror and the first thing I thought was 'Shit, I look like a retired Marine DI. No, I look like a prisoner in a Russian Gulag. Maybe a Serbian War criminal? A White Supremacist? A convict on death row? A chemo patient? An assistant coach on an NFL team? (I'm now built like an aging linebacker.)
My scalp is a healthy pink, covered now by less than a 1/4 inch of hair, every square inch of my head now has the same amount of hair, probably for the first time since Army Basic Training...
It looks weird, my wife hates it and Anneke will take zero responsibility for the cut. I startled myself when I walked in the bathroom at work a few minutes ago.
It does look kind of fucked up. It was my choice, though and I now have to live with without hair to soften my well earned folds, creases and wrinkles for awhile. At least my head isn't shaped like a damned kidney bean or fucking bullet.
On the plus side, I still have plenty of hair to cut and it grows quickly.
I'm glad I repressed the passing thought of shaving my head and growing a goatee...
I think I'll just tell anyone who asks, "the chemo worked."
Now, about that tattoo thing...