Follicles & Fear

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
As a receding (in denial), balding man, I have a relationship with my vanity and the instruments that aide me.

Submitted: September 08, 2016

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Submitted: September 08, 2016



I have had a procrastinating love affair with my locks for too many years now, and it continues to this day, where by all intents and purposes it is nothing more than desert.


From cornrows to braids, mow-hawk to shoulder length and now to the present, I have spent the best part of two years under the dictatorship of my stubborn follicles. Though, this period is the one that demands the most attention; to detail and maintenance.


Twice a week, at least my trusty hair clippers travel from North to South over my dome, repetitively, overlapping each strip it had just covered; in order to survey my scalp and remove all debris that will at one point become the cause of certain vanity felt frustrations. Once complete I am happy that I am in the state of visual cleanliness, I am streamlined and I congratulate myself for the fact that I have at least worked out how to defeat the mane altering violation that is the Amsterdam wind.


But, this week it all changed and I am in despair. My chrome hair clipping companion made his last foray towards my head, as it approached my right sideburn it stopped, motionless, almost it seemed out of stubbornness or sheer petulance, but it wasn’t. It had run its course and the organs of its electronic life had capitulated, rendering themselves disconnected and retired. Suffering from some form of shock at the unexpectedness of this malfunction, I shook the clippers a couple of times, naturally expecting this to be best resolution to fixing the problem. Alas, you could smell the smell of electronic death and with a sigh and a drop of the brow I resigned the poor fellow….back on the shelf, of course.


Now of course, I see the luckiness here. Had it decided that it could indeed squeeze out one more trim before heading into retirement, it would have run the risk of leaving its owner with a half chewed mop of fine and small strands of ginger. But, instead it thwarted any attempt by the law of Sod and reared its head before touching down to graze. It rewarded its careful owner with a maintained dignity and bowed out with a respectful 100% record of 208 Cuts 208 Wins.*


Now I have a dire need to buy a new set of hair clippers and it won’t be that easy. As you can tell and no doubt have experienced yourself, forging a trusting and honest relationship with an object is a journey that takes its time. This object must have a purpose too, it is an instrument that aides us with everyday objectives. We do not give vases names, though it is the reason why we give our cars names.


Replacing a once close friend is difficult, and both will enter the relationship with trepidation and a humble approach. Overtime my grip will recognize the contours, the cutting teeth will be primed to deal with the grade of strands on top of my head, and slowly but shortly we will become the makings of a great double act.


For now, my hair is into its 6th day without sheering and I am conscious of the fuzzy mounds slowly forming on the parts where horns are sometimes found. And already my girlfriend has begun calling me a long haired hippy. For the record the blades of hair that adorn my crown stand at 3mm in height.


For some unknown reason I have coupled my vanity of hair with a penchant for hats. As if I subconsciously knew that one day the hat will rule. I do have a large collection of hats and now will request their attention to see me through this choppy patch.



*figure based on 2 years ownership, using it twice per week....for people into random stats

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