The Evolution of Hair

I’ve taken a break from recapping my backpacking adventures in preparation of my return to Boston. As per “pack up all the shit in my life and throw it into a suitcase and fly across the country” endeavor, the same check list continues to apply. Do I have my medicines? Does my wallet have all my necessary forms of ID? Am I wearing my best underwear for when homeland security strip searches because my name is on the TSA watch list? It’s a laborious process that requires careful planning, attention to detail, and most importantly: good hair.

Now, dear reader, you might be thinking something along the lines of: “What? Good hair? What does that have to do with anything?” or “Well, I can unsubscribe from this garbage now.” But for me, flying back to school with good hair is important. Not because I have anyone to impress. In terms of fashion and outwards appearances, I like to set the bar low so I’m constantly delighted when I look decent. No, flying with good hair is important because for me, it doesn’t last long. I’d like it to look respectable for the school year as long as possible. Timing is key.

I must always strategically map when I receive my haircuts, as it goes through six-key stages of evolution with each cut, without fail. Perhaps a closer examination will justify my angst…

1. Stage one: freshly cut. The first awkward week of a new haircut. Questions I pose to myself typically include: “Is my forehead really that big?” “Do I have premature balding?”  And, my personal favorite, “Has my head always been in the shape of a lopsided egg?” Self-esteem typically is at all all-month low.

2. Stage two: growth. My hair begins to take shape. But it is still uncomfortably short and choppy. I am typically described to be a brown Ellen Dengeneres. Dip in self-esteem is only momentarily. Being one of the best influential lesbians on TV and being married to Portia De Rossi wouldn’t be so bad. I notice a renewned pep in my step.

3. Stage three: being really really ridiculously good looking. After two weeks of awkward times and only when the full moon is bright, I look like this for about twenty minutes…

4. Stage four: …thennnn I come back to reality and am perfectly content being my normal self with normal hair for about five to six days.

5. Stage five: return of the Aztecs. My hair quickly begins to grow out and  thick, uncontrollable, “Aztec hair”  returns. It only grows up and refuses to grow long. I use this moment in my hair cycle to “get in touch with my ethnic roots.” This cultural exploration lasts only as long as it takes to break a hairbrush. Then the angst continues.

6. Stage six: time for a hair cut. There’s something about long hair that makes you look like a child. Functioning like a normal person becomes difficult. There is an overwhelming urge to thrash my hair around like a hip-hop mega star.Please see the attached picture below from junior year to see side-effects of such a lifestyle.

Well there you have it folks. A photographic journey of my scalp and its surroundings. I hope it has been an educational treat and that you’ve enjoyed your visit. But alas, now it’s time to return to my packing and preparation for flight back to college. I can only hope that it is a full moon when I arrive.