The word itself has an unpleasantness about it – it is about the not so bright side of life.
I must warn you that this blog discloses some conservative aspects of my personality. If you would prefer to maintain your image of me as untarnished, turn a page; if you are curious and brave, read on …
Since I left school, I have had to pay for my own haircuts – so I didn’t. I let my hair grow. Now if I still had the silky blonde curls of my toddler years, longer hair would likely have been a chick magnet.
Alas, my hair turned frizzy and wiry – Mahlutsi in siSwati; my sister’s name, so called for her thick wiry hair. No worries, Afros were almost fashionable even in the old SA! On liberal white campuses anyway.
After 4 years of untamed, occasional self trimming, I had to get a job, so went to a barber for a short back and sides. All my mates were in the Police or Army doing national service, so I was in fashion.
I honestly don’t recall haircuts in the 10 years I was in Rhodesia, but kept it quite short. I think I may have prevailed on friends’ girlfriends. (I was not a chick magnet).
After I moved to South Africa and got married I noticed that barbers seemed to disappear, to be replaced by hairdressers. Also, I started balding…
I was put off by going to a hairdresser, so bought my own clippers and did my own hair. Occasionally my wife would correct any major oversight.
About 10 years ago, I had a beard and a monk’s fringe which was getting a bit waywardly curly. Deciding to treat myself I sought out a barber. They seemed to be coming back into business again.
To my surprise, the barber was a hairdresser. Lisping slightly, he asked if I had an apointhment. I had never made an appointment at a barber shop in my life. You just sat on a bench and read fishing and car magazines until a chair was free!
He said he could fit me in in the late afternoon… I hardly heard him. I’d seen the price: Pensioner special $25!! I had never paid more than one dollar before!!
I shot out off there and have never looked back. It is clear hairdressers have taken over the striped pole and old dentist chairs from barbers…
So, I cut my own hair, I must say no-one has ever commented except my wife who likes me in curls. No major disasters … until today.
On the spur of the moment, probably to avoid writing a blog (yes, it is Friday) , I decided on a quick trim, as it is getting quite hot these days.
Act in haste, repent at leisure… All went well, but as I was clipping the middle of the back of my head, I felt a cool stripe. Then I felt something fall off the clipper. It was the attachment which sets the length of hair.
As my grandson says: Uh ohh!!
I couldn’t see in the little hand mirror, so reluctantly went to find my wife. She snorted and tears came to her eyes…
She turned me with my back to the big mirror and I looked in the hand mirror. There is a vertical bald track up the back of my head..
Ah well, my hair has not been my best feature, since I outgrew my toddler curls…
At least it gave me something to blog about!
sillysocksonfriday 