Birthday Hat
At what point does something become more of a hassle then it's worth? That's the question I think we must ask ourselves from time to time. And, for me, it becomes too much trouble when it starts running your life.
Sure, it starts simply enough. "Use conditioner, Alex. Treat me with care, Mr. Mattingly. Cut me once a month to avoid split ends, Al." But soon your hair gets cocky; "Alex! Put that dorito down! Give me twenty jumping jacks! How are we going to get the women if I'm the only one doing any work?"
This put me in an awkward position. On the one hand was my hair, which I'd gotten pretty used to, and on the other that was me under there, in the form of an eerily round head. It was time to reconnect. Grabbing a pair of scissors and a magazine of Mach 3 razorblade heads, I went to work.
The result was spectacular. Staring before me, after an hour of careful pruning and shaving, was a glowing white beacon of freedom. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, freedom.
I threw away my shampoo, my hairspray, my little red comb that was the only instrument my hair would respond to without looking like something the cat vomited up. My shower tote grew emptier and emptier, and as it lightened so did my heart.
Like Odysseus finally returning from a twenty year absence, I too return from the land of hair to the way I was born, wearing my birthday hat, doing my Mr. Clean impression, playing the hairless harmonica. And as filthy as that last analogy sounded, it is not as filthy as my former enslavement.
Join me, brothers and sisters! Surrender you beehives and afros! Let your scalp rise from the horizon like a fresh moon reborn!
Sure, there will be some stares from the locals. Looks of bewilderment, sighs of disappointment. Your grandmother may think you a skinhead. But, gosh darn it, it isn't the first time those Germans were on to something. We can thank them for the rocket, we can thank them for displaced Jewish geniuses, and now we can thank them for our ultimate liberation from our hairy shackles.
Let us raise our razors high, my friends, and let us travel the world to teach. And don't forget a hat.
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**To date, Alex Mattingly has never run out of things to shave, and has never shaved the same item twice.
Sure, it starts simply enough. "Use conditioner, Alex. Treat me with care, Mr. Mattingly. Cut me once a month to avoid split ends, Al." But soon your hair gets cocky; "Alex! Put that dorito down! Give me twenty jumping jacks! How are we going to get the women if I'm the only one doing any work?"
This put me in an awkward position. On the one hand was my hair, which I'd gotten pretty used to, and on the other that was me under there, in the form of an eerily round head. It was time to reconnect. Grabbing a pair of scissors and a magazine of Mach 3 razorblade heads, I went to work.
The result was spectacular. Staring before me, after an hour of careful pruning and shaving, was a glowing white beacon of freedom. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, freedom.
I threw away my shampoo, my hairspray, my little red comb that was the only instrument my hair would respond to without looking like something the cat vomited up. My shower tote grew emptier and emptier, and as it lightened so did my heart.
Like Odysseus finally returning from a twenty year absence, I too return from the land of hair to the way I was born, wearing my birthday hat, doing my Mr. Clean impression, playing the hairless harmonica. And as filthy as that last analogy sounded, it is not as filthy as my former enslavement.
Join me, brothers and sisters! Surrender you beehives and afros! Let your scalp rise from the horizon like a fresh moon reborn!
Sure, there will be some stares from the locals. Looks of bewilderment, sighs of disappointment. Your grandmother may think you a skinhead. But, gosh darn it, it isn't the first time those Germans were on to something. We can thank them for the rocket, we can thank them for displaced Jewish geniuses, and now we can thank them for our ultimate liberation from our hairy shackles.
Let us raise our razors high, my friends, and let us travel the world to teach. And don't forget a hat.
---------
**To date, Alex Mattingly has never run out of things to shave, and has never shaved the same item twice.