Sometimes a haircut is just a haircut


Share this: Email | Facebook | X

I got a haircut last week. Normally that wouldn’t be a newsflash, but it was the first haircut I’ve had in several months, so it was kind of a big deal to me.

I’m still suspicious of that clean cut guy who looks back at me from the mirror … he looks too much like a NSA agent who could stand to lose a few pounds. Big Brother is everywhere!

I never made a decision to grow my hair long, it just sort of happened because I hate getting haircuts. To be honest, it’s not really the haircuts I don’t like, it’s getting off my butt and going to get a haircut that always seems like something that can be put off. Years ago I adopted the motto, “Never put off to tomorrow what you can avoid doing altogether” and so I ended up with shoulder length hair.

It really didn’t mean a heck of a lot to me because I’ve always seen myself as a long-haired leaping gnome, but it sure seemed to bother other people a lot. Many people called me a hippie, most of them were youngsters who didn’t realize that no self-respecting hippie would be caught dead wearing a polo shirt with a defense contractor logo.

Real hippies rejected the military-industrial complex whereas I have made a nice living working within the military-industrial complex for most of my life. Hippies went barefoot, embraced free love and rarely showered. I wear running shoes, have been married for over 28 years and sometimes shower twice a day just because I like being clean. I couldn’t possibly be a hippie!

On the other hand, hippies questioned authority, rebelled against old dudes in ties telling them how to live and listened to Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix. I’ve been known to crank up the volume listening to Roadhouse Blues or Purple Haze, I think ties are phallic symbols worn by politicians and bankers who have sold their souls for power and money and I only recognize the authority of “We the people”; so maybe I am a hippie after all.

Is it possible that the whole time I was raising a family, going to work, paying taxes, serving in the military, going to war and showering regularly that I was really a hippie in disguise? Can a married grandfather who has a 401K, draws a military retirement check and owns a Brad Paisley CD actually be suppressing his inner hippie?

To be honest I enjoyed wearing my hair longer again. I’ve worn a short military style haircut for so long that I have forgotten what it feels like when the wind blows and hair moves across your shoulders. I’m 57 years old, and I didn’t even know that, given the chance, my hair curls like General Custer’s.

For most of my adult life I’ve had to accept the fact that Robert Redford and Brad Pitt are Rick Seley look-alikes, now I find out that with longer hair that Joe Walsh is being mistaken for me. Who knew?

Is it possible that missing a few haircut appointments is a sign of some sort of identity crisis? Did I grow my hair out because I’m rediscovering myself in a new age awakening? Was growing my hair longer finally releasing the sandal wearing free spirit inside me who is comfortable using the word “groovy?” No chance!

The truth is that after I blew off a few haircut appointments out of sheer laziness, Sandra commented that she liked my hair longer. The thing that motivates me more than self-indulgent laziness is self-indulgent laziness that Sandra approves of! The only thing I discovered by growing my hair out was that Sandra liked playing with the curls I never knew were there. Boom! It was a done deal!

I got a haircut this week because I got another job selling my expertise within the military-industrial complex and, let’s be honest, nobody will pay to hear what some long-haired hippie has to say about the care and feeding of their fleet of fighter jets.

Does that make me a sell out to “the man?” Who cares? I’m the same underachieving free spirit I was a week ago except now I have a haircut and a paycheck. If there’s anything I know for sure, it’s that I look stupid in sandals and Sandra approves of paychecks more than she does curls in my hair.

Sometimes a haircut is just a haircut.

Rick Seley is an award-winning humor columnist. He may be reached at news@lahontanvalleynews.com