"Crap! I wish I hadn't seen Ricky on the sidewalk."

"You will be fine for 31 minutes. You will be dead in 32 minutes."

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

The Bald Truth, or The Clippers and the Damage Done

I don't have a lot of hair on my head, and I'm okay with that. 

I've had a beard since I was sixteen, and I started losing my hair in my mid-20s.   Somewhere, there exists a picture of me with a ponytail. Don't try and picture it, it'll only keep you up at night.

Every four or five days, I take out my Wahl hair clippers (you know, the one with the self-sharping, high-carbon steel blades), and I run it over my head just to even things out. I've been doing it for a long time, exhausted my fair share of clippers. 

I was shaving my head this morning when my clippers started to sputter and cough.  One minute the juice was flowing and the blades blazing; the next, my clippers up and died. 


I looked in the mirror.  It looked like I had mange.

So I had a choice to make.  I could run out and buy new hair clippers or I could soap up my head and shave the modest amount of hair that was left. 

Am I vain?  I don't think so.  But I was nervous about running a razor over my head.  Or three, as it turned out.

It was an emotional morning.

Also:  where exactly do sideburns begin? 

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