O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
- Christopher Marlowe, English Dramatist and Poet (1564-1593)
Ah, what a difference a day makes.
I always enjoy looking at before and after pictures, so last Saturday, I decided to ditch the long hair. I took a few photos, of the “before” and couldn’t help but laugh at this one in particular. It reminded me of the famous Charles Manson picture which ended up as a popular t-shirt here in So. Cal. in the late 80s. (The back of the shirt said, “Charlie Don’t Surf”, a cross-reference between the lunatic Manson himself, the movie Apocalypse Now and the general surfer vibe of the local beach cities where we lived.)
I wasn’t trying to strike that pose, but I figured if I can look that much like Charles Manson without even trying, it’s definitely time to get cleaned up a bit.
Given another six months or so I might have had my hair halfway down my back, which is where I feel like I’m really, truly myself, but it’s that inbetween stage that sucks, I was tired of still being in that sloppy-looking inbetween stage, so I headed out the door and braced myself for the shedding of the locks.
Although I normally feel more comfortable in a gay man’s hands – er, wait, that didn’t come out exactly how I meant it – although I normally feel more comfortable putting my hair in the hands of a gay hairstylist (and yes, this preference could be cast by some as a slight bit of prejudice, but all the best haircuts I’ve ever had were from gay hairstylists and plus, I have plenty of interaction with straight women on a daily basis, so I get a kick out of striking up a conversation with a gay stylist whenever I get a chance) but the woman who cut my hair felt my apprehension of losing all that hair and she was calming and soothing as she went to work.
So what do you think, from Manson to handsome, or from headbanger to lamer?