Nope, I’m not going bald, at least not yet. I might have a pretty big forehead, but otherwise things are still nicely filled in. What has happened recently though is a not so insignificant reduction in the length of the ol’ mane. That’s right, I got a haircut. A big honkin’ haircut.
To back up a bit, I never intended to let my hair grow out again, but it happened. It all started in 2002 when So! and I picked up and spent the end of spring, all summer and the better part of the fall traveling. We blew through NYC, Boston, the Carribbean, Australia, Hawaii and Atlanta before settling back into good ol’ SF. When we started in May, my ‘do was short and spikey and freshly bleached. When we finished in November, it was all shaggy and starting to grow out (a la Bo Duke as one of my buddies was quick to point out). It hadn’t been that long in like 8 years, so I decided to leave it alone and see what would happen.
About a year later I got a call from my haircutter Joseph. He was ringing to inform me that he had moved shop and to be sure to keep him in mind if I wasn’t happy with whoever was currently cutting my hair… to which I replied, “Dude, I haven’t had a haircut in 18 months, and you’re the last person who cut it!!” I went in to see Joseph right away, and that’s when it hit me that I was gonna let it grow until it was longer than I ever had it. Joseph was pretty stoked with the idea, so he cleaned me up and sent me on my hair growing way.
A year after that the hair started to really bother me. I was finally to the point where I could pull it all back into a ponytail which was nice, but it also meant that I was to the point where washing it sucked, letting it dry took all day and waking up with it down my throat was happening more often than I would have liked. My “grow the hair longer than ever” goal was still in effect, but it was starting to seem somewhat ridiculous… until I stumbled upon Locks of Love.
In case you’ve never heard of it before, Locks of Love is a non-profit organization that provides hair pieces to financially disadvantaged children 18 years and younger suffering from long term medical hair loss. Their first rule of donation states, “We accept 10″ minimum hair length (tip to tip), not wigs, falls, or synthetic hair”. At that point my hair was just under the min length, so I renewed my quest, making my main objective hooking up a needy kid with a siiiiiiiiiiick new wig… only they wouldn’t get it until I had reached my “grow the hair longer than ever” goal. Sweet.
Fast forward to January 2006 and there I was with a mane running 1/2 way down my back. The time had come. The question now was, “Who gets to cut my hair?” Joseph had moved to a new salon in the Marina district, and even though I really dug the cuts he gave me back in the short & spikey days, I try to steer clear of that side of town, so that was out of the question. My buddy Bob suggested Elana at The Salon. His hair was lookin’ pretty tight, and it turns out that The Salon was only 4 blocks from home, so I made an appointment, went in and let Elana at it.
Over the next hour, Elana had a blast taking my hair from super long to mega white trash mullet to hipster wannabe before finally settling in on ultra short and spikey. She finished off with one of her infamous shampoo/head massage combos and I was out the door and on my way.
In the past, such drastic hair cuts have totally freaked me out mainly because they were done somewhat against my will. Not this time though. I walked out of The Salon feelin’ really good and with no regrets whatsoever. So! was pretty stoked with the cut (although she prefers it a lil’ longer) and I had in my possession a 16″ long ponytail that was going to be donated to a kid who could really really use something to smile about.
