I got my hair cut this past weekend. And no, I didn’t use the comb’n’cut. I went to Supercuts where I paid someone else to cut my hair.
As usual, it took some prodding from Katie.
And it got me thinking about my inexplicable aversion to haircuts. I think it comes down to economics and the fact that I care less about my appearance than I should.
The economics is simple: the less often I get my hair cut, the less money I spend on my hair in a year. And, it means less time in the year spent waiting for an open chair and less time sitting around while my hair gets cut.
The appearance? Maybe it’s because I grew up with my mom cutting my hair and it became something I took for granted. It’s something that I always had done at home in our garage and now you want to pay some stranger to do it?
Or it could be that I see myself as two different people: the post-haircut Scott, who has short clean hair, who has it together and never has to do anything to get his hair to naturally style itself into a decent professional look. And pre-haircut Scott, who lets his hair grow just long enough to suggest that he may have a hipster vibe about him, that he doesn’t care about the establishment, with just the tiniest bit of gel in his hair.
I suppose laziness also factors into it. Even when my hair gets longer, I don’t gel it all that often and I’ll just let it fall into my eyes and let my sideburns grow until they pop out under my glasses in odd directions. And I’m sure, at that point, I’m not the most attractive guy at the pub.