The Reckless Hair Growth Experiment

In my opening post back in September, I announced my exit from corporate life so that I could pursue answers to a myriad of questions. One of these questions was:

“How long can I really go without shaving or cutting my hair?”

To the chagrin of my friend (Codename: BYU) who insists that my hair gets worked into every conversation, I feel the need to provide an update regarding the answer to that question. Unfortunately, I harbored some of my corporate sense of decorum and felt the need to trim my hair and my beard prior to my campus interviews.

The hair fell victim first, with as minimal a reduction in length as could be negotiated with the hairdresser. Her instructions were to keep me from looking like an executive while maintaining some aura of responsibility. Judging by the fact that I felt it was too short and my father felt it was too long, I’d say she hit her mark.

The beard was up next. I began with a close trim, but was unhappy with the look. So, I decided to drop back to a goatee. Despite having sported one years ago, I hated it this time. Thus, I shaved it off completely and went sans facial hair throughout the interview process because I felt that showing up with half a beard might signal a lack of interest in the proceedings.

Since then, I have restarted the Reckless Hair Growth Experiment. The beard is back, but has been kept relatively trim. The hair? That’s another story. Well, two stories, actually.

STORY NUMBER ONE

As I prepared to turn my house over to a renter the first of May – three months since aforementioned haircut – I found myself in and out of Home Depot more than my financial adviser would like to know (IRA contribution looking a little thin this year, bro). On one of the final trips, there was a wait at the paint counter and before long I had drifted into one of my patented Waking Comas of Thought. Suddenly, I was jarred back to reality by a woman behind me saying, “Excuse me”.

My mind raced to decipher what I had done while spaced out that could have impeded her quest for paint and I rotated to catch her eye, simultaneously brushing my hair back behind my ears. “Yes, ma’am?” I replied.

“I just had to tell you that you have AMAZING hair.”

I thanked her and attempted a sheepish grin to camouflage my swelling pride when she followed with:

“Seriously. I mean, every woman I know would KILL for your hair.”

Uh, wow. I mean, I think I have a pretty nice mane, but would have never considered it worth a capital offense. Despite the fact that she didn’t seem to indicate that men would want my hair, slightly (but just barely) infringing on my masculinity, this fueled the desire to keep the Reckless Hair Growth Experiment going, which leads us to:

STORY NUMBER TWO

Several weeks later, I was out with some friends when the malted hops induced a call from nature. While attending to business, I heard a voice from behind me:

“Dude, your hair is awesome!”

A couple of things:

1. Having your hair raved about by a guy is a little strange
2. Having your hair raved about by a guy in the men’s room is really strange
3. Having your hair raved about the duration of your time in the men’s room is uncomfortably strange

Seriously. The guy would not stop talking. I heard his entire hair story: how he tried to grow it out, then got a bad trim, then gave up, but was now re-inspired to try again after seeing my awesome hair. I assure you that none of this is hyperbole. In fact, I just saved you several minutes of your life by condensing his monologue. The encounter was not one that I really enjoyed, but upon learning that my hair was now changing lives I decided I had to keep the Reckless Hair Growth Experiment going.

***

As of this posting, I still haven’t cut my hair. Well, not since the pre-interview trim. It’s so long now that a gal in the church I visited on Sunday told me I looked like Desmond from the TV series LOST.

It’s also not long enough to be a bother while running in the oppressive Florida heat and humidity. I’ve been rocking a bondi band for two months (thanks, Sis!), but have recently had to go one step further. Maybe one step too far.

It’s so blasted hot that I’ve been forced to acquire a rubber band from my niece to pull my hair up off the back of my neck. I know, I know. To make matters worse, I was struggling to admit the need for two hair accessories while running and had to “borrow” it on the sly to avoid asking for it. The only one I could find was hot pink. Yes, God has a sense of humor.

I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep this up, but for now the entertainment value is outweighing the desire to cut the Reckless Hair Growth Experiment short. Pun intended.

III