The tale of a tail
It’s a while since I had a haircut.
Haircuts don’t feature very large in my life as high points so I have no idea when I last had a trim. It must be around three years at this stage.
I am a great believer in the conservation of energy. It was one of the main reasons why fifty or more years ago I decided I could save considerably on energy and time if I grew a beard. That decision has indeed paid off handsomely, I reckon I have saved a total of 66 days of staring in the mirror at my handsome visage.
The hair has gone the same way. It is now tied back which means I can read a book without a fringe getting in the way. My fringe is now halfway down my back. There have been a few small accidents where the hair dropped forward into my dinner. Now I just tuck it into my shirt pocket out of the way.
The only problem is that every now and then a few hairs come loose and start going their own way down my face which is irritating, so every couple of days I have to remove the rubber band, comb out the locks and retie them again. This leads to the one significant problem.
Combing hair that now is quite long [to put it mildly] tends to get bogged down in tangles. Those tangles [especially those where a bolognese or curry has intruded] tend to be difficult to comb out, resulting in a lot of hair pulling. As a result, once I have finished, my comb looks a bit like a small dog with the amount of hair in it. This is hair that I can ill afford to loose but there’s a price for everything.
I have just combed my hair. A large fistful of beautiful silver locks have been tossed unceremoniously out the door.
It’s fun though watching the birds fighting for it for their nests.
You should not comb it out during the nesting season. I dread (maybe that is the origin of the name) to think how many tiny lives you have disturbed.
That is the one time they want me to do it. Nests lined with my fine hair are selling with a considerably higher price. I sleep happy with the thought of all those little nestlings snuggled down in their nice soft silky nests.
Totally agree about beard. Mine saves me hours every week. While I still have all my hair, and I’m older than you, I prefer my hair short. It’s low maintenance apart from a cut every six weeks. And the grey is less obvious!
In its initial stages of growth the hair was a bit messy. The shorter front bits kept falling forward. Now all strands reach back to the tie and I never need concern myself with a barber again. Maybe I’ll cut a bit off the ends when I start tripping up on it?
For some strange reason, my regular visits to a fabulous lady-hairdresser have stretched from six weeks to nine or ten!
At seventy-five, I do have to wonder if I’ll finish up like the proverbial billiard ball, but family history and photographs show a certain decline in the thatch, but never a total loss, which is somewhat gratifying…
I have found though, that the longer one japes with the haidresser, the more is taken off, such that Senora O’Blene laughs like a drain on my return from the lovely lady’s fond attention…
Yes, old family photographs are a grand reassurance. I always knew I was destined for a grand silver mane with just a little receding at the front.
The rubber band, if that is what it is, could damage hair – perhaps that’s why you’re combing a lot out. Please try a softer hair band, as the fairer sex use, which might reduce losses.
My beard becomes itchy if allowed to grow too long, so it gets a trim monthly.
I’m way head of you. WHen it first started growing long enough I bought a card of those stretchy fabric ones. They do tend to loose elasticity after a while and it’s nearly time to buy a new card.
I have always had a dislike of rubbers.