Haircut 100

16 Mar

Haircuts are funny things. No two are the same. Inane holiday conversations. No conversations. Wearing an oversized bib. Hairy men putting large razor blades to your neck. Looking at yourself in a mirror for 20 consecutive minutes.

Today I had a haircut. It was boringly weird, or weirdly boring. I can’t decide. The highlight (ahem) was when the really hairy Greek hairdresser saw it fit to surreptitiously run the clipper over my earlobe. I’d have liked it to have been an accident but I’m convinced he did it on purpose. He only did one ear and I’ve since checked my other ear and there’s definitely no sign of stubble on it. The ear he clipppered doesn’t look to have any unduly hairy remnants on it either. Perplexing stuff indeed. I’ve racked my brains and can think of no girlfriend past or present who has ever recoiled at the sight of my earlobes. My brutally frank siblings have never called me Sasquatch or Yeti and I myself have never even caught the merest glimpse of a rogue follicle. But what if he really did spot something? What if there was shaft of hair? Could it be a sign of ageing? Could be a side effect of carbohydrate restriction in my diet? Perhaps, like an elephant, I’m currently in must and am secreting large amounts of testosterone through my lobulus auriculae.  Fortunately, the hairdresser waited until the end of the cut before asking me if I wanted my eyebrows trimming.

As I said, haircuts are funny things. I just wish he’d asked me about my holidays.

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