So by now, I’m sure most of you faithful readers are well-aware of my participation in the Korean Pop Star Hair challenge. Most of you have been keeping up with the “episodes,” and most of you told me how you honestly felt, with some even saying they would refuse to be seen with me out in public (thanks Mom).
I had until December 30th to continue growing it out. And things were kinda going, in a slow and fug-mugly way. Case in point:
But I had planned to stick it through. After all, it had been nearly 4 months, and what else had I got to lose? My pride, appearance, and self-respect was already out the window. I was gonna do this thing, homey!
It’s weird, though, when you get to that certain point that it’s so bad it starts looking and feeling good. In a way, I came to embrace my long Samsonian locks of hair. I liked combing my fingers through it. I like how it waved back and tickled the insides of my ears. And I like how it kept my brain warm on those cold, chilly nights. Maybe I’ll stick with long hair for some time to come, I thought.
Until…the company Christmas party rolled around. December 11. And then suddenly, the ol’ me was like, “I can’t be looking like a scrub to this thing.” It was gonnabe at this nice, swanky steakhouse, STK, near Beverly. People were going to be there. My co-workers. My boss. My boss’s boss. Their wives and significant others, and all these other people that I wanted to impress but will probably never see again in my life. So, I took one look in the mirror, saw this:
I was thinking about where I wanted to get my haircut. Fantastic Sam’s? Supercuts? Korean place in Rowland? But they never do it the way I want it. Well, what did I want? Maybe that new John Mayer album look? I was thinking about it, possibly bringing the cd to the place and just showing them what I wanted.
But I thought back to that time when I went to a barber for a college dance. I liked the girl and wanted to look supafly. So I went to this Chinese place carrying a picture of Brad Pitt from Ocean’s 11. I showed it to the lady–she took one look at the picture, one quick look at me, and said: “You don’t look like that.” And then she laughed. And…that was that.
So I said NO. If I’m gonna do this, cut off 4 and a half months of my Chia Pet hair, then I must do it myself. So I went back home and busted out good ol’ Conair.
If you’ve never gotten a haircut from me, let’s just say that my razor sucks. Like big time. I forgot how crappy it was until I tried turning it on only to hear a faint little buzz from the barely-chugging motor. I was afraid because I had already clipped a good chunk out of my right side, and if it died on me at that moment, then I’d have to go to Fantastic Sam’s in shame and admit my defeat. Or just wear a hat to the party like a G. Chhyeah…
Luckily, it kept on going. It was like the more hair it cut, the more alive it became. I kinda gave myself a mini-mullet in the cutting, just cause you don’t often get the chance to play around with long hair yanno? I think the mullet would suit me, if perhaps I had lived another life in another time and place.
It’s been so long since I’ve cut my own hair. The trickiest part is the back, because you obviously can’t see the fade as well and you’re not sure if the line matches up. But Mom was kind enough to help out a bit.
After a good hour and a half, I was finally done. I saw a little fruitfly buzzing around the restroom, and I wasn’t sure if it came from my hair or not. (That’s when you know your hair is grungy.) I haven’t seen such a big pile of my own hair ever before.
But the result, I must say, proved the effort.
After a nice, quick shower, and change of clothes, I was good to go. I almost didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.
It was a weird feeling. I know it looked cleaner and all, but some part of me missed the long tickly hairs. It took me a grueling period to grow out, and I came to bond with it. But just in an hour, it was all on the floor.
My dad woke up on Sunday morning and saw me dressed for church, and he said, “Now that’s my son! I don’t know who that other guy was the past few months.” I think I rather be a loser than look like one.
Happy holidays, folks. And remember, if you want love around the holiday season, stay classy and buy some mistletoe.