A Little Off the Top
With little to do to amuse me as the baseball playoffs decided on a week off, I decided to accompany Kathy and the boys to SuperCuts. I jumped straight into the chair.
"How do you want it cut?" the perfectly nice lady asked.
"Get rid of it," I said.
"How exactly?"
"I don't care," I responded. "You can't screw it up."
"Short on top? Short on the side?"
"Just shave it," I responded. "I just don't care anymore."
Something about my jovial tone must have made her realize that she had free rein. She took out the shaver and went at it.
I could hear the boys behind me. Kathy was telling them about how thick my hair used to be.
"Now his hairstyle is made up of mostly skin," Jake said.
Oh,they all laughed, including the woman shaving my dome.
I watched the grey hair fall on the floor beside my chair.
"Do you normally shave your head like this?" the woman asked.
"What's the difference?" I asked. "We're beyond the time when I could sit in your chair and say make my hair look like his," I pointed to the male model on the wall. He looked a little feminine to me anyway.
"Yes, I suppose we are," the woman said.
In moments I was out of the chair as was Jake. The entire staff was telling my boy how good he looked.
"What about me?" I asked.
"Oh, you're hot!" Jake exclaimed, and everyone down to the floor sweeper laughed.
So there we are, I've become a walking mockery.
Well, the joke's on them - I don't need to use my brush for at least three months. There isn't a hair on my head out of place.
"How do you want it cut?" the perfectly nice lady asked.
"Get rid of it," I said.
"How exactly?"
"I don't care," I responded. "You can't screw it up."
"Short on top? Short on the side?"
"Just shave it," I responded. "I just don't care anymore."
Something about my jovial tone must have made her realize that she had free rein. She took out the shaver and went at it.
I could hear the boys behind me. Kathy was telling them about how thick my hair used to be.
"Now his hairstyle is made up of mostly skin," Jake said.
Oh,they all laughed, including the woman shaving my dome.
I watched the grey hair fall on the floor beside my chair.
"Do you normally shave your head like this?" the woman asked.
"What's the difference?" I asked. "We're beyond the time when I could sit in your chair and say make my hair look like his," I pointed to the male model on the wall. He looked a little feminine to me anyway.
"Yes, I suppose we are," the woman said.
In moments I was out of the chair as was Jake. The entire staff was telling my boy how good he looked.
"What about me?" I asked.
"Oh, you're hot!" Jake exclaimed, and everyone down to the floor sweeper laughed.
So there we are, I've become a walking mockery.
Well, the joke's on them - I don't need to use my brush for at least three months. There isn't a hair on my head out of place.
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