I did a photo project on barbershops for my photography class in college. At the time I had my hair short à la Halle Berry in Boomerang so I quickly got used to going to barbershops for a cut. It was cheaper and the lines were shorter. One Saturday while putzing around the house, I watched my cousin cut my brother’s hair and I thought, ‘hold, up, why am I paying good money going to a barbershop when I could have my cousin cut my hair.?’
So there I sat, being buzzed here and there. I congratulated myself on finding a new way to save money. My brother started telling jokes at this time. This one joke was so funny that I threw my head back to laugh and felt the clippers connect with my scalp. I heard an “oh sh*t” from my brother and a gasp that most likely came from me. A patch of hair the size of an Ipod Nano was gone from the right side of my head. Gone.
At first I thought, this is fine. It’s fine. I could wear a yarmulke. But I’m not Jewish, nor a man, so that idea quickly got scratched. Then there was the idea of wearing a turban…Oi!
In the end I had it shaved off--not unlike D. in the above picture. Lawd, it took me days to get used to my face. In the end I loved it the haircut. I felt so bad ass. And loved to contrast my hair with punk, ethnic, or repressed looks as in the above picture.
Seeing D. made me want to consider shaving my head again.
….then again, when I saw this young woman’s locks, I wanted to get locks too.