Haircuts, man.
Toddler - here's where the trouble starts. Big side-swept thing that would set the stage for all future mistakes.
Childhood - epic side part that earned the moniker 'schoolie', a word that never looks properly spelled.
Adolescent - adopted a modified Duff. Parted down the middle and shaved(!) underneath the eaves. Gets worse.
Teen Alpha - long duff, down to shoulders. Tons of homophobic insults and ANGST. Loads of ANGST. Awful.
Teen Beta - crew cut. Copious amounts of gel and uptight micromanagement. A marked improvement.
Teen Gamma - emotional crisis results in razor-blade shearing. My head was smoooooth. Looked crazy, oddly good.
Teen Delta - no cut. grew everything out at once. Referred to by friends as a head cut.
College (Initial) - no more hair cuts, for a year. Super easy to deal with: wash, rinse, hat. Done. Awesome.
College (Variable) - series of long/buzz cuts. Blond dyes. Nothing looks right, due to exacerbating obesity.
Post College - pseudo crew. Becomes standard young man's cut. Evolves from fauxhawk into duckbutt/Philip Fry.
Current - greaser. Better half shakes head and calls me hipster. Look like maternal grandfather. Never met him.
I just never get comfortable with them.
I've had a full head of hair my whole life. Providence providing, I'll continue to have one for years. As grateful as I am for a full head of hair, I continue to be exacerbated by it. No matter how I get it cut, or how often, it continues to grow and demands attention. I just want something that stays. As in "You - stay. Don't move. Don't go anywhere. No funny business." Instead, I find myself constantly in damage-control. I have to react and adapt and ugh I just don't wanna. Look, the deal is this - I've never really had a haircut I've liked. It's always been just finding one that works for the time and going for it. Every single time I go in for a cut there is NO PLAN whatsoever. It's always as if I surprise myself. "Oh, haircut? Uhhh...try...this? I don't know..." Sure, I've like some more than others, but mostly they've always been terrible and I look back and cringe. Let's look back at my poor choices, shall we?
Baby - doesn't count.
Toddler - here's where the trouble starts. Big side-swept thing that would set the stage for all future mistakes.
Childhood - epic side part that earned the moniker 'schoolie', a word that never looks properly spelled.
Adolescent - adopted a modified Duff. Parted down the middle and shaved(!) underneath the eaves. Gets worse.
Teen Alpha - long duff, down to shoulders. Tons of homophobic insults and ANGST. Loads of ANGST. Awful.
Teen Beta - crew cut. Copious amounts of gel and uptight micromanagement. A marked improvement.
Teen Gamma - emotional crisis results in razor-blade shearing. My head was smoooooth. Looked crazy, oddly good.
Teen Delta - no cut. grew everything out at once. Referred to by friends as a head cut.
College (Initial) - no more hair cuts, for a year. Super easy to deal with: wash, rinse, hat. Done. Awesome.
College (Variable) - series of long/buzz cuts. Blond dyes. Nothing looks right, due to exacerbating obesity.
Post College - pseudo crew. Becomes standard young man's cut. Evolves from fauxhawk into duckbutt/Philip Fry.
Current - greaser. Better half shakes head and calls me hipster. Look like maternal grandfather. Never met him.
You see?
No matter what I do, it's a reactionary thing. I just wish it could be like a cartoon and I could wake up every day and it would stay the same. Alas, it grows and changes and betrays me. I feel like no other guy obsesses and worries about this like do, but then they're probably not as neurotic as me.
I can look at this two ways:
One - it's never gonna be solved, and it's never gonna look great. Just deal with it and constantly perform triage.
Two - lean into the spin. It'll be a fascinating look at back at my narcissism and self-modulation in the 21st century.