09 January 2012

Hair today, gone tomorrow

I think I may be turning the corner on this zombie flu thing.  Was definitely feeling a bit better this weekend and able to get some things done.  


A few weeks back, some people posted a meme about hair.  Long, short, how they used to wear it, what they are into now.  I like RC’s style, even if it does trend towards the wild professor look (or, perhaps, Tom Baker)?  I figured that I should add my two cents to the debate.

First of all, if you have seen any recent pictures of my mug, one might infer that I am “follically challenged”.  My current hair style is a conscious choice I’ve grown into over the years. 

I haven’t always been this way.  When I was a kid, I had long, flowing hair.  Not sure what style I would label it, but it was more wavy than curly.  My most distinctive feature was a cow-lick.  You know, that one spot of hair that won’t be controlled by any conventional means of hair products.  It kinda stood out at times (think There’s Something About Mary).  When I was a cute youngster, it was cute with all my relatives and I got lots of attention.  All my aunts loved to touch it.  At some point, it got old.  I tried to have my hair styled in high school, but it was too much hassle/maintenance for me.  In high school, my inner child rebelled and I let it go long (plus my parents got tired of nagging me to get it cut).  If you could picture it, I was kind of a stoner in high school with shoulder length who rode a motorcycle.  The problem was that my hair tends to be oily and a PITA to maintain.  I wandered aimlessly through high school with no real direction aside of graduating.  When I finally picked my college, I actually fell in love with the Corps of Cadets (the ROTC unit) at A&M.  With all the spirit and traditions and camaraderie, it somehow filled a niche I didn’t know I was looking for.  It fit what I needed at that point in my life (that’s another blog post).  Of course, being a paramilitary unit, long hair is not generally accepted so, right after I enrolled in the fall of 75, I got my first burr cut.  Old style barbers on the north side of campus that have been cutting hair since WWII.  Was weird at first, but I found that I kinda liked it.  I kept it short during college and let it grow out a bit in the Army while in Germany, but at some point, the family genes started to catch up with me.  Seems like, as life worn on, my hairline kept retreating south (or my eyebrows kept getting lower).  Add that to one of those nifty “spots” on top, I figured was fighting a losing cause.  Mot sure when I started getting a shorter cut in my recent days, but with the scouts, I found it easier to sport a shorter do when we did any camps or traveling.  One less thing to mess with.  It became a regular habit that I started to get my hair cut short before any of my road trips. 

In my younger days as a aspiring drummer
You think with a haircut like mine, it would be easy to find someone to cut it.  When Stephen was younger, we had a barber in a house right next door to our church.  A local barber called Ray who had been cutting hair since the 60s.  Ray had actually converted his garage into a two chair shop complete with barber pole.  We used him for years until he retired and sold off his house and moved.  We wandered for a while trying out the local chains, but didn’t find anything that we fell in love with.  That is until I stumbled across a local chain called Sports Clips.  I discovered this great stylist that I fell found a in love with.   She was a short Vietnamese fiery woman that was barely reached 5 feet.  Nihiti was a marathon runner (full marathon, I might add) and was probably all of 90 lbs.  She was funny and a great stylist, but I am not sure my hair cuts were a challenge to her.  She has been cutting my hair for almost 15 years and I don’t even need to tell her what I want done.  She's even been cutting Stephen’s hair for years and, even though he lives in Austin, he makes it a point to get his hair cut there when he is home.  I am a person of habit.  When I find something I like and tend to stick with it.  I wear my shoes out, I drive my cars until the wheels fall off, I will wear clothes that probably should be retired a while ago.  So when I went to Sport Clips prior to my trip to Belgium, imagine my shock when they told me that  Nihiti  was no longer working there.  I got no story of where she went or why she left, so I figured she either pissed off the wrong person, cut off someone’s ear or got fed up cutting hair.  I figure it was not the latter and if I could find out where she went to, I would definitely follow her.  

High school Chic (or geek?)
For now, I am in mourning.  I went to my local Sport Clips chain Friday to get my hair cut by Jennifer, but it just wasn't the same.  Bummer. 

4 comments:

terri said...

I had a cousin who did my hair for about 15 years. After she quit the hair business, I went about 7 months without a cut. Good thing the style was trending towards growing out the bangs. That's exactly what I did. Finally, some friends recommended a good shop. I couldn't get in with the recommended stylist, but I found Patti and have been with her ever since. I know how you feel!

"Abby" said...

Find a good stylist, and you should hang on. This is our hair we're talking about!

Nice pics, your bowtie v. stoner look is a nice study in contrasts!

meleah rebeccah said...

*Hooray for feeling better!

* The photo of you on the drums is totally-super-awesome!

* And I truly had no idea men had such hair issues. I thought only us women obsessed about stuff like that.

* Your high school picture is classic. CLASSIC.

shadowrun300 said...

I would be devestated if my hair dresser upped and left. It's so hard to find someone you trust.
2 of my boys are like you were in high school. They wear their hair as long as they possibly can. (They attend a Catholic school where they are pretty strict with the hair length on their collar, ears, and eyebrows.)Needless to say, they push the limit all the time. I don't mind though. There are worse ways they could be expressing themselves. :)