A Celebratory Trim

Spoiling Myself in the Barber's Chair

I’ve never thought that I have great hair. As a kid, my mom would get me a crewcut every summer. When it would grow back, the accursed cowlicks would appear, frustrating most barbers and stylists who had the “pleasure” of cutting my lettuce. In high school, as an homage to Sid Vicious, I went for the “punk cut” and used mousse to spike it up. Since then, I tried repeatedly to grow my hair out…but the appearance of the mullet-like tail in the back was always a dealbreaker. Finally, about three years ago, I had found a length that I found bearable (if not enjoyable).

And then along came cancer and chemo to fuck it all up.