Y’all Have Ruined My Hair
It might be time for a chop.
Time To Read: 3 mins | November 2, 2016
I didn’t always have long hair. My football coaches through college believed in a conservative approach to follicles, meaning I looked just like every other steak-head frat star until I was 22 years old.
So I only started growing it long after my senior season, back in 2009. This wasn’t a style choice so much as it was laziness. No one was making me cut it anymore, so I didn’t. Simple as that.
The worst part about transitioning from respectable male crew cut to a flowing lady mane is the ‘awkward phase’. For several months in the middle of the process, there’s absolutely nothing stylistically possible you can do with your bushy half-grown mop head. In fact, this is why many men fail to bring their long hair fantasies to fruition – they get halfway there, then realize they haven’t gotten any action in months, and so promptly ask their barber for whatever we’re calling this nonsense.
Fortunately for me, I spent my awkward phase in Micronesia, a tiny island nation in the Pacific where there was very little action to be had anyways. By the time I’d moved to Los Angeles a year later, my hair had reached full length, and became my proverbial ‘thing’. And for many years, I was at peace.
But then someone decided man buns were fashionable, and my life has been shit ever since.
What was once my unique style became trendy, and everyone started trying it. Which, to strangers, makes me look like a bandwagon rider. Which I hate more than – and I don’t say this lightly – artichokes.
And that’s not the worst bit. Eventually this wave is going to crash, and everyone will move on to some new ludicrous haircut. Having a bun will be considered woefully out of date. I will be casually thought of as relic, someone holding onto a style choice of yesteryear.
But if these problems are bad in America, they’re far worse on the road. A disproportionately high percentage of travelling males have shoulder length hair, probably trying to fit some hippy wanderlust stereotype. Damn near all of them, from the eyebrows up, look just like me. I am no longer a unique, beautiful butterfly.
I need a solution. It probably won’t involve scissors, but I’m not ruling it out. Please send suggestions – unless you were my college football coach.
photo: best outfit of the dia de meurtos by far. also, not my future hair inspiration. probably.