For the first 14 years of my life I had the same haircut. It was one of those parted styles from the 70s. As a child my sister and I were my Mom's dolls. She would just dress us anyway she chose and didn't really care what we thought on the matter. From what I remember my sister didn't care, and I didn't either. Clothing styles never really mattered to me, and besides I'd just get them filthy and holey from playing outside in them. Occasionally when I came home from school Mom would have new clothes laying on my bed. She told me to try them on and if they fit they went into my closet. Simple.
Mom wanted us looking our best when we went to school. She never said it but I think she thought sloppy looking children were the result of shoddy parenting. So she took great pains to ensure that my sister and I looked good. Unfortunately that didn't apply to our clothing. We never were given the 'cool' kid clothes. But she did her best, especially with my sister who was always dressed in little dresses.
But my hair had a routine all to its own and was a bit amusing for many years. Mom had to do it. She had me sit down on this odd bench/chair of hers, and with a blow dryer in one hand and a big comb in the other she set about her business. Again I never really cared all that much, but as I grew older I did start to notice that I was behind in the styles. Eventually, and I don't remember when, I took over and started doing it myself. I never bothered with the blow dryer that was incredibly too much work. I would just grab some of Mom's moose, throw it in, put a comb through it, and be done. Mom was okay with that approach, but I remember at first she was distrusting of my method and she would put tape in my hair to make sure it dried correctly. As a kid I didn't care, but it is pretty amusing to think on now.
Eventually Mom started noticing that I was very behind in the styles, and she told me I should get with the times and get a different hair cut. I agreed with her and pretty much all my friends who made fun of me, but this was my style for all my life. I didn't feel like changing it and then having to deal with all the comments people were going to make. I knew what the styles were of the time period but I guess I didn't have the self-confidence required to make the change. Maybe it was because I was never a 'cool' kid and I thought that by changing my hair style my peers would think I was a poser. It wouldn't be bullying, maybe just more alienation. I was never bullied, or if I was, people learned right quick to leave me be. So mostly I was left alone by the cool kids. They didn't mess with me but also didn't include me.
One day my Dad had to take me to get my haircut. This was the first time in really ever that Dad took me. He told the lady to cut it short and mess it up. Back then, as now, no one listened to me and she did as he told her. I later thought that the reason Dad went and not Mom was because it was their plan that I was going to get a new style and I would have to be better behaved with Dad around.
The next day at school immediately I got the nickname Spike. My bangs, something I always dreaded as a child because I thought bangs were feminine, were shaped like spikes. That and I had 'stabbed' a kid a year before with a pencil that became known as my spike (told you I stood up to bullies). So the two were a perfect fit and I had my nickname. I liked the nickname, probably because I never had one before and it wasn't demaning. This was also about the time we started thinking it was cool to start calling each other by our last names. We still do that to this day, and I still have a few who address me by my nickname.
The whole point of this is to relate to you how difficult it is for me to change styles even if I know they are behind the time or just down right not suited for me. So it should come as no surprise to you when I say that yesterday, for the first time in 5 or 6 years, I very trepidaciously shaved off my goatee. There were a number of reasons for this. First I was curious what I would look like sporting the scruffy look. Second the reason I grew it in the first place is no longer reasonable. And finally I was also curious what I'd look like without it being there. I didn't go all the way though. I wanted to save some time and only shaved it down to the rest of my beard which was at about 3 days growth. It was odd though. Before I shaved it off I felt the rest of my beard was too long and need a trim. But after shaving it off everything seems much too short and now I want everything longer.
The comments have already started coming in. After Mass yesterday, a friend who saw me said I replaced my super villain goatee (like the kinds of villains who tie pretty ladies to railroad tracks) with a 15 year old boy's face. Mom said she is so happy because the ladies now a days like the scruffy look and maybe it will help me out a bit. That remains to be seen.
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