As I was influenced late on the Friday evening at my comrades house, better known as gleb. I decided it to be a profound idea to embark on the first attempt I had ever made on cutting my hair. As i wet down my hair with shaving cram and hot water, forming a lather atop my curls, I remembered long back to my childhood when I always asked my mom why I couldn't get my haircut like the old men. I was always told, "no one specifically asks for that haircut it's more of a curse"; or a recessive gene if you will.
However as I proceeded to Follow my given course, taking the inappropriate actions into the uncoordinated hands of the guy with the blade, that guy of course being me. I looked in the mirror, contemplating about how some people my age spend half of their lives' in front of these things staring at themselves. I don't enjoy staring at myself, cause I always stair too hard and get freaked out. Beyond that, lookin at mirrors isn't exactly my cup of tea, because when I'm thirty-eight years old in a retirement home, chances are I'll look back and think about what a better looking chap I was in my prime.
Not anymore. As the Blade made swift, occasional bumpy strokes across my head with a diameter of nearly two feet, Gleb, the only spectator to this comedic event laughed hysterically while still making an attempt to control himself, in order not to wake up the whole family. The activities continued on like a jug blowing at a hoe down. Nearly half an hour later, the sheer skills and mechanics of my haircutting ability were for the first time revealed to my audience- who was passed out sleeping on his bed. I then woke him up, as he proceeded to laugh, and complain to me that there should be a pizza roll button dispensing savory rolls of cholesterol to him continually through the night.
Sleep fell upon me, as the top protion of my head bald as a baby's butt, lay on the pillow while i rubbed it, and realized, the truth behind bald as a babys butt, but not smooth. Dawy broke upon the pillow covered pains of Gleb's basement windows. I woke up six hours later.
As I arose and proceeded to the bathroom to releive myself, I looked in the mirror- then quickly looked back and noticed my hair was gone, and that it wasn't a dream. so many things come into your mind when you do this kind of thing; it's almost like committing a crime. For instance, whats my date going to think? Who is going to see this? How am i going to cover this up? Date? I dont have a date, but if i did- what would she think? What about my overbearing mother? who feels as though im doomed to a future of social and socioeconomic failure, destined to be a janitor and not rise up to be a power of the company like Bower. Regardless, there i stood, looking, in a different way. I felt like the Teens that spend so much time in front of these simple objects that control such a larger aspect of society, I felt worried about the way i looked. And then i laughed, and said "what the hell? I say its time to drive with my seat as close to the wheel, and with the most correct angle of posture the human body will allow without a spinal contortion while I play Michigan Public Radio at full blast aloud in the middle of city streets.....with a sweater vest and fedora cap...."
As teh social commentary and privatelyh funded musical selection blasted out of the black Spurts utility Vehicle, people looked condescendingly, even contemptuosly. I laughed and waved to them saying "hello" in a light-hearted, high-pitched nasal voice. Cruising through the city in this manner left me feeling rambunctious, so i ventured to Busch's, taking back the bottles like a normal teenager scrounging for money in hard times. Time to time the unexpected senior citizen would gaze reminiscently at Gleb and I. Thats when i would flip them the hat off the top of my head and lower myself into a slight curtsy.
The wide spectrum of reactions to this was what I enjoyed the most, some men laughed, some woman gasped, someone gave me a senior citizens discount, after i asked for it at the counter. Getting the immediate reply of "no' I quickly formed an improvisational rebuttal upon how there is no difference between a bald 70 year old man and a balding teen. Jokingly, i received the discount.
All of this fun and games was really a great way to explore life through someone else's way, perhaps it was stereotypical of bald people, old people, my mother, janitors, and the listeners of Michigan Public Radio, although as the Self-Indulged, egotistical, Self-righteous, American that I am, I am reserved the right to live this way, and Die this way, along with fight for the pride of being a pompous jackass at times. Doing this, (being Bald, not being an American) gave me a lot of fond memories in which my friends, and I, will remember for a very long time. I thought it was a fantastic way to venture outside my comfort zone, and i think everyone should give it a try in his or her own shape and form
Thank you for your time
Sincerely
Joe. C Wilkinson.