So, I did this a few weeks ago. The annual warm weather purge of old hair.
The quiet, steady buzz of the razor, a no. 2, removing most of what was. Chopping down the old strands of brown as if they were trees impeding new construction.
My head now sleek and aerodynamic like a red rocketship.
I’m ready to launch myself to a new place where no one knows my name.
* * *
Post script:
For the first, two weeks I wear a baseball cap and marvel at how well a cap fits on a freshly buzzed head.
Now, it’s at that weird in-between phase I call “the Sluggo.”
Sometimes I wonder why I got my hair cut so short in the first place.
But most times, I focus on the way my hair feels like velvet on the back of my head and how it dries after a shower with a quick shake of my head.
And how the cosmic wind will feel cool and powerful on my bare head as I soar between the interstellar dust clouds and try to swallow the stars.
* * *
Have you gotten your summer ‘do yet?
The Flannel Files 