So, why the portrait of this mildly handsome and rugged, lumber jack kinda man? I’m embarrassed to disclose but, because I believe transparency is the conduit of trust, I recently showed this picture to my hair lady and said, “I wanna look like this guy”. An awkward silence fell heavy on my shoulders and oozed down the chair like chains preparing to lock up any hope I had when I walked through the front door. Immediately, the old adage “honey, I do hair, I ain’t no magician” quickly flooded my brain and a huge wave of regret smacked me in the face as my cosmetological scissor wizard stood, staring at me in the mirror. What was probably only a few seconds for her to form a response, felt like minutes to me. She was very kind, understanding and, I sensed she was very good at letting over eager men down easy. I soon discovered just how good she really was.

After some discussion and negotiation as to how we “get there”, she very politely reminded me of how my hair growth patterns were changing and, she gingerly emphasized that grey hair is more challenging to style. Ok, fine. Those revelations and two nuggets of truth were digestible, but went down like a Brussel sprout doused in Tobasco sauce. As my confidence meter was plunging like a Hollywood actress’ neck line at an Oscar afterparty, she hit me with the wrecking ball all men fear. Because my ears were in such shock and my heart seized for a hot second, I can’t quite remember what she said next so I’ll paraphrase as well as my traumatized brain can recount…

“We can go short on the sides like this guy but we don’t want to go too short on top. You’re not balding that much but I’m afraid, going this short, may make you look like you’re balding more than you are.”

LAWD! Like the Soup Nazi, I thought, “NO TIP FOR YOU!” I felt like I had been slapped by Mike Tyson.

The truth can be raw but it’ll always set you free. I walked out of that barber shop that day feeling free that I’ll never look like “that guy”, and that’s ok. I need to embrace the “Old Guys Rule” mantra, start wearing more Tommy Bahama shirts and listening less to what Madison Avenue is shoving into my psyche. But, you gotta stop with the Depends commercials. I’m just not there…yet.