I was at the barber earlier this week. Long time readers may recall the woman who cuts my hair is gorgeous, and barely street legal. As a reminder that I'm older than her father, I generally wear something, or drive something to my appointment older than she.This week, in the next chair ( do they call them that in salons?) was a young woman getting THE haircut.
The guys know what I mean. It comes without warning or discussion. We're presented with a fait acompli, and our lives are changed, forever. Most never see it coming.
The women know exactly what I mean. It's the haircut that comes shortly after, if not the first, then certainly the birth of her second child.
Your girlfriend, lover, wife, mother of your children, is shorn of her beautiful locks. The tresses you've known forever. Gone!
Intellectually, we understand. She's busier now. Doesn't have time for such frippery as her hair. Tresses tugged at by infants. Grubby little hands smeared with oatmeal, baby food or worse.
It's the first public display that you've slipped a notch.
Gents, it will happen to you. When it does, there is only one response. YOU LOVE IT!!!!!!
Mourn quietly, alone.
Toad
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