Residual Self-Image.

I got a buzzcut yesterday. Every time someone compliments a new haircut, I always feel somewhat insulted. As if they’re implying that my previous hairstyle was an abomination. Just once I’d like someone to say, “I liked your hair the way it was.” Screw you, I liked my “mad scientist” style!

Okay, there’s plenty of people on here who spit out their coffee when I first cut my hair last may. But the average joe who sees me ends up saying, “Oh WOW, you got a haircut. I like it!” To which I say, “Yeah, I got a few hairs cut.” Gotta have a stock line to keep from punching people in the face.

It’s not so much that I hate how I look with short hair. I reckon I’d look sexy no matter what length of hair. I just hate this implication of “about time.” Excuse me? I didn’t do this for you. My body, my choice. Part of that choice is deciding, hey, maybe I’ll randomly shave my head because I want to.

As for the title, I’ll always identify myself as having long flowing hair. Don’t worry. By the time I’m fifty, I’ll at LEAST have an epic old-man-on-the-mountain-beard. And you simply can’t look cool with those if you have short hair. (Unless you’re Patrick Stewart bald.) As for right now, I hate having hat-hair and it’s ball-sweating hot outside. Ball-sweating, I say!