Hair it is

My senior year of high school I stopped cutting my hair.  Besides the occasional trimming the wavy locks were allowed free reign to blanket my shoulders and back.  My mom was none too pleased and my siblings were wondering what could have gotten into my head to allow that bush to flourish with abandon.

Things calmed down and that included my mane.  With more length the curls were subdued by gravity’s force and I celebrated the day when those first strands actually stayed behind the ears they were tucked.  Entering college my hair represented the awakening reinvention of this nest-dwelling boy into an independent reckless man.  The hair thumbed its kinkiness at the Man and was a signpost to others that this individual was willing to defy some of society’s expectations.

Collegiate women found this long hair appealing and at times would seek me out because of this lone characteristic.  Sensing a good thing more hair grew upon the chin and sides of the face.  A surprising gush of Irish red below the mouth complemented the flowing browness on top.  The wildness of my appearance began to influence my inner convictions. (Or did it work the other way around?)

I became a beacon for and sought out all things that my hair represented: drugs aplenty, parties til early morn, taking chances just because they were there.  I became more free of movement and speech but only when those intoxicants found there way into my system.  I thought that because I looked different than most of my peers I was by default different.  But I too was caught up in the frivolity of numbing the senses just because I could.  My hair was a reminder that I was willing to take that next step into the void but really I was holding back from facing the truths of my being:

I did not need alcohol to speak deeply about my feelings.

My outward “look” was inconsequential.

Long hair clogs the shower drain much faster than short hair.

The shorning of the once fair head of hair I gave as a gift to my mother on my 24th birthday.  She cut with abandon.  She shaved with glee.  We went out to celebrate at a Steak house and I marveled in my vegetarian irony.  I could feel the wind on my scalp and my mom said that my sparkling blue eyes were no longer hidden behind my unruly locks.

For more strands of hair…

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