Disclaimer: I am well aware there are far worse problems in the world, but this is mine, and this is my space, so I’m venting.
I wear my hair cropped for the feel of it. The tickling sensation of moving hair sets off sensory overloads I have a hard time shutting down. When it’s cut properly, it’s pure, brain-soothing, sensory bliss.
When it’s bad, like now, it feels indescribably awful, and I hate it with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns.
It isn’t like I have a fussy haircut. It’s “electric clippers using a #8 guard” short, a little shorter around the ears, sideburns shaved off level with the tops of my ears in front.
That’s it. No “fade” or “layer” or anything fancy. It’s SIMPLE and doesn’t take long even if done with finesse, involving a cut, a shampoo, and a second trim to clean sideburns to perfection and catch sneaky stray hairs that try to lie down under the clippers.
There’s very little to mess up. And yet. AND YET. Here I am, once again stuck with a haircut that’s leaves me twitching and fighting the irrational desire to shave my head bald.
No one would see anything wrong. It looks fine. It looks good, to be honest, but while we’re being honest, if I cared about appearances I would not choose a hairstyle most commonly seen on the heads of athletic little kids. It fails in the feels column, a frustration that happens once every three or four haircuts.
You may well wonder how a simple cut can go so wrong, and the answer is: thinning/texturizing shears. MOTHERFUCKING THINNING SHEARS.
Shears do hideous things to the way my hair lays naturally. Clippers cut big swaths of hair all the same length at same angle. Within minutes, after one wash at most, and they settle into peaceful, unified behavior, moving as one like a school of fish.
Thinning shears deliberately cut strands of hair at different heights. When those strands run into each other, when the shorter ones stick up, the hairs rub and fight with each other for days, and I FEEL them fighting.UGH.
Nothing ruins an otherwise blissfully perfect haircut like a stylist “fixing” my cowlicks with those damned shears, and nothing I do ever stops them from doing it eventually.
This stylist will get one more chance. I give second chances. Not third ones, though. It’s infuriating. I don’t have to list off all the other things I don’t want done to my hair, but if I look away for a SECOND, every stylist starts snipping with those gawbsawful shears before I can say no.
Anyway. My head is mortally aggravating me, right now and I can look forward to two weeks of this present misery. SO I’m a bit salty about it.