Some men keep a thick, full head of hair into their sixties. I'm not one of them. When I was in college, I had really good hair. It was thick. It was down to my shoulder blades. Girls were jealous of my hair. They played with my hair. It was good.
Now I've got less hair. It's not REAL bad, but I'm heading for Mr. T-pattern baldness. It looks like Bruce Willis in 1986; not bad, but not a good trend. If it gets long it looks awful thin in front. If I grew it out I'd look like I messed with the horizontal hold.
I have, and will ever have, only one hairdresser. She asks what I want, then she does what she wants.
So last time I saw her, she asked "What do you want?" I said, "More in front." She went "Hmmm" and I realized that I maybe shouldn't have been so damn flippant. She started cutting and playing. At the end of it she went, "How about that?"
I had a combover. A start at the left ear and drag it forward combover. Hitler had a combover like that. The scary thing was that it sorta, kinda, worked. Now I had a real ethical decision: Do something embarassing and lame, or don't do it and look worse? This is what the Who was talking about when they said, "Hope I die before I get old." As in all the best slippery-slope arguements, I figured, "Well. . .I'll leave it for the rest of the day."
I went outside into the wind. The only thing funnier than seeing a comb-over take flight is feeling a comb-over take flight.
I was saved from the awkward decision. Ethics is hard. Aerodynamics is easy.
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