Thursday, August 4, 2005

A haircut, considered on its own merits, really isn’t significant enough to warrant more than a passing glance. The stuff coming out of your skull, it just keeps growing and you need to tame it. End of story. Nature schedules barbering sessions by its own accord, on a daily basis, without a need for appointments. Snakes slough off their skin discreetly. Birds moult regardless of whether there are coupons. Chipmunks get sucked into lawnmowers with little to no provocation. Why is our grooming any different?

One reason, I think, is because we’re largely incapable of doing it ourselves. I suppose you can try to cut your own hair, but you’ll probably succeed only if you’re shaving it. Any other style will force you to buy a hat or shave anyway, so you turn to others for help. That’s where things get unnatural. I mean, does your cat meow incessantly to other cats when it’s about to shed? The moment you reach out to someone, the quest for a well-coiffed head becomes an embarrassing bodily function, kinda like incontinence, but more like incontinence of the follicles.

You climb into the salon chair, maybe there’s conversation and maybe there isn’t, and within the hour the deed is done. Now, the day after your cut, this is what’s interesting. People will make it a point to indicate your hair is shorter. I’m not talking about compliments or even insults. Some peers will simply point out the reduction of your glorious mane. This is a scientific phenomenon.

“Hey, you got a haircut!”

“Looks like someone got a haircut.”

“Ah, haircut.”

It’s confounding, you know? Someone took the shears to the shit on my head, easy as that. The stylist didn’t trim my eyes or break my bathroom mirrors, thereby blinding me to her meticulous handiwork. Would this brand of observation work in other situations?

“Let me guess. You showered?”

“Looks like someone got a divorce!”

“You are wearing a shirt.”

“Pants. You are also wearing pants.”

“So, tumor.”

Preliminary testing points toward the negative.