The Tale of the Miserable Haircut

If you’re a guy, you know exactly how horrifying haircuts can be. Especially if you’re back from college looking like a vagrant hippie musician sporting hair longer than your guts.

You’re compelled into getting a haircut immediately and if lady luck decides to ditch you for the day, your mom might just come along with you. Now there begins a heart-wrenching, poignant tale of the miserable haircut. 

The barber does as he’s told, your cold stares or whispered instructions notwithstanding. In the end, your coveted mop of hair is reduced to nothingness. You can’t feel the wind through your hair. Your next few weeks stand utterly devastated. 

The moment you’re back home, you stand right in front of the mirror, staring at your complete loss. The damage is done; no amount of conditioning or combing can repair it. Ever so slowly, your self confidence is ripped apart; you feel like tearing whatever is still stuck to your head.

Guests, relatives and even the postman can give you the creeps. Social anxiety cripples you and torments you. You’re propelled into a never-ending thought-cycle of shame and despair. You want to curl up into a small ball and pull out of sight. But there’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to run; they find you eventually.

Retrospection fills your head. You are harshly reminded of your magnificent past, when you still had the tresses to-die-for. Teary eyed, you revisit the days that are gone and envisage the days to come, clutching the nearest support in fear. You think you’re on the highway to hell.

Your friends decide to hang out at the coolest places right today, of all days. Your continuous requests earlier in the week were dubiously and blatantly rejected. Now refusing them shreds your heart into a million parts. They keep pressing you for a reason. You can only give vague replies. If only they understood the unspoken.

Gradually the pain becomes unbearable; the impending wait reaches your threshold. The hair strands simply deny growing any faster. You watch helpless as the world falls down around you. You are eaten up in your own shadows and pray for relief. The efforts are in vain and you’re left alone to suffer in silence.

 

But out of the confusion and the aftermath, grows a tiny rebellion. A strong defiant scream, shattering the window glass panes and muting the metaphorical noise. Rising from the heap of ashes, you say to yourself – I don’t freaking care. Let the world judge me, I mean nothing to nobody. Well, then you feel totally proud of yourself and step out of the darkness into the curious world. Unforgiving light greets you.

The grandeur of the moment is rendered complete and realization hits you. You’re brought back to the inconsiderate reality. Your mess of a hair still looks as inept and clumsy. Tired and defeated, you pick up the book you had always avoided reading and shut   yourself from the outer ruthless world.