I got a haircut tonight, after putting it off for maybe another month, or was it two?

Why did I procrastinate?

I told my slicer last time to leave it a bit longer, and I think it must have been tuned to a different galaxy at the time.

I left weightless, at least in my skull, and I wasn’t happy about it.

So, as a teenager rebelling against his parents or school authority, I chose to stay away from scissors, and you know what?

Something amazing happened.

I started to like what I saw, and a terrible haircut turned into a glorious haircut.

My head turned into something almost elegant. Hey, it WAS classy, ​​but I don’t mean contemporary.

It was a throwback, locks dangling from my eyes, requiring head banging to fix. Better yet, my hair felt FULL for maybe the first time in decades.

In the old days, when I was a teenager, my father and I shared President Reagan’s Beverly Hills barber, Harry Drucker. Harry told me, “Gary, never let a hairdresser lighten your hair, it’s thin enough, you don’t need that.”

Well, I made the mistake over the next several years of forgetting this wisdom, opting instead for something that seemed undeniably corporate.

big mistake; and i came to appreciate this, recently, as my hair grew and grew and grew even longer.

And I had an epiphany: I haven’t been cutting my hair to my liking, not at all. I’ve been doing it to get approval, and this perennial inner teen finally said, “Enough!”

Tonight’s cut was done by a new stylist, completely run by you, really, and no one noticed I have one.

Perfect!