God likes hair

Recently I shaved my head. It was so unbelievably liberating. I look like an idiot, a pinhead, a beanpole, whatever, I don’t care. I loved it. I LOVED IT!! I loved running that razor over my head and watching huge globs of hair fall to the floor, blazing swaths in patterns over my head, ridding myself of a responsibility that is so over-rated. Ridding myself of a re-occurring expense. The cares of hair being swept away into the garbage can along with the filament. “Goodbye fair hair! I’ll see more of you in a month I’m sure, but until then, I bid you a fond adieu! So long, sucker!”

It really was lovely, the feel of being freed from something that we take so seriously in our society. The literal physical feel of the bur of the short hair upon my hand. Giving those barbers the big middle finger; they’re never very nice to me anyway. Like the mortician, they’re always going to have business. But for now, I could give them the bird instead of my cash. And Will was cool with it. He wasn’t crazy about it, but he was cool. It certainly isn’t flattering, but that wasn’t the point. My nostrils look much bigger as does my forehead. And my ears sticking out are more noticeable and now when I take the dogs to the beach, I actually stop and wonder whether I should cover my head so it doesn’t burn.

But then…god began to work in mysterious ways. People get all weird when it comes to drastically altering one’s appearance. Who the hell cares? Well, lots of ‘em do, lots of them. It’s like when I grow a beard, people love it or hate it and I love it when I don’t hear about it. I’ve literally heard both of these comments from individuals when I’ve grown a beard. “Wow. I feel like I should thank you for growing that because it’s so strikingly beautiful, I love just looking at it.” - That one came from a “straight” male chef at a hotel I use to work at. Why didn’t he just tell me to take off my pants? I felt so bizarre after he made the comment, I wasn’t sure whether it was really a compliment or not. I just kind of nervously looked around hoping no one else heard that and muttered a thanks and got out of there.

The next comment on the other end of the spectrum came from a waitress that was chain smoking and who drinks enough coffee to wake the dead. We use to be friends until I finally determined that in order for us to remain friends, I was going to have to kill her. When she saw the beard, she said, “Yeah, that’s what you want to do, with a pointy-ass chin like that, make it even more pronounced! Why the hell would you grow a beard?”
What an asshole.

So, now that I’ve shaved my head, I’m still enjoying it despite people’s stupid comments. I really have other things on my mind other than people’s appearances; it’s too bad that they don’t too. I’ve heard, “Oh, wow…you use to have really beautiful hair, what happened?” to “Aahhh! When is your hair going to grow back?!” I don’t know, let me ask it. To, “Why did you do that? Did you regret it as soon as you did it?” No, but I have a feeling that I’m going to regret busting your teeth out. And one of my favorites, “God likes hair, it’s in the bible…that’s why I spend a lot of money on mine.” Jesus Christ, what do I EVEN say to that one?

It’s hair…and it causes all kinds of commotion. Even Paul the apostle rips on the Corinthians about their hair. That nibby-nose was busting on them saying that the style of their hair was so confounding to the distinction of the sexes that it was against a good moral principle. So, because Paul got drunk down at the local watering hole one night and probably ended up making out with some dude with long hair, he’s going to blame it on the hair.

The Egyptians use to let their hair (their beards and the hair on their heads) grow when they were in mourning. The Nepalese men shave their heads when they’re in mourning.
But, apparently god likes hair, so we should spend a lot of money on it.

I wonder if god was mad at all the tsunami victims for letting their hair go after getting hit with that? I wonder if god was watching the 6 o’clock news when all of those poor people that George W. left stranded after Katrina tore through the gulf coast leaving a wake of disaster and mangled hair, thinking, “Damn them and their lacks ways…if they’re breathing, they should be brushing and combing and curling…for the world is full of sin, but they must have nice hair.” Did the bible fail to mention that Jesus was a Breck girl or something?

I don’t take it personally, I really don’t. I don’t care what they think. The issue is I can’t believe that they care…about my hair.