he looked awesome. he had officially joined the club…the club of men who have come to their senses and stopped messing with their hair. he was happy. he was confident. the joy of his newfound freedom was obvious. his emotional release from the bondage of washing, conditioning, drying, combing, primping, and constant concern was more than apparent…it was more than clear…it was contagious.
so it got me thinking about my hairless condition. it was fifteen years ago…on my 42nd birthday…that i made the plunge. i was a little tentative. i cut first with a “three”. then a “two”. and then about a month later, i took the shield off the clippers and did the complete buzz. it was amazing.
it took about a year before i finally took a razor to my dome. when i did, it was euphoric. it was the answer to all the problems in society. it was the solution to world peace. it felt like the remedy to the evils of society.
it was pure greatness. need some evidence? here are my top five reasons:
five –you can’t beat the cost. i use one razor for about two months ($2) and a can of shaving cream ($3) lasts even longer. how does that compare to your $15 sport clip every two weeks?
four – you would never know that i am going bald. the expanding cul-de-sacs on the sides of my head will never be enjoyed by the masses. the exact location of the slick landing pad in the back will remain a mystery. pattern baldness has been replaced with uniform smooth.
three – there are few things in life more exhilarating than the feeling of a freshly shaved head laying on a cool pillow on a summer night. the sensation of sliding my head side-to-side…free from obstruction…along the top of the pillow gives an unmistakable buzz to the nerve endings of my skull cap that is unlike anything else. you don’t know what you’re missing…
two – speaking of sensations, the feel of a cold rag rubbing across the top of my head on a hot, sweaty afternoon is similar to a jump in a mountain stream. the pain of the cold shooting down the back of my neck…and the resulting shivers…is unbelievable. and i can do it unlimited times without any fuss…without any mess.
one – speaking of mess, that’s one thing i never worry about. i have a consistently perfect-looking coif. always at my best. at the end of a long day…or the moment i get out of bed. absolutely perfect every time. no cost. no effort. no time. no mirror. no blow dryer. no gel. no spray. no hair in the drain.
honorable mention – i’m easy for wanda to pick out in a crowd. i don’t have to remember a comb. no tips to barbers or hair-stylists. day-old stubble holds my stocking cap on like velcro. little kids love rubbing my head. no more sticky, sweaty hair in hot weather. i’m immediately accepted in tougher crowds. i can look intimidating at offering time.
there might be a handful of guys that should avoid bic-ing their heads. too many divots. too many bumps. oblong. but not many.
let the fraternity blossom.