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Ever since the ninth grade, shears (high power shears that dim the lights) have been used to cut my hair.  See, I have what has been called “kinda hair” - the kinda hair you don’t want (rim shot please).  Imagine white kid with an afro, but knappy.  It was knappy enough that I was solicited to be part of an “Ebony & Ivory” haircut promo in college, but they specialized in the ebony.  I have also been asked by a black guy in a titty bar long, long ago “How did your hair get so knappy?”, as if he wanted to try and go for my look.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I hadn’t showered after spending an entire summer day under leather sand-blasting hood in a hot machine shop.

Since I have moved to Arizona, the hair has gotten shorter and shorter.  I like to tell myself that it is because of the summer heat and that it has absolutely nothing to do with the shiny dome forming on the back of my head.  Nothing to do with that at all.  I went from a #2 down to the min lever position setting with no attachments on my shears.  

Having a shaved head has been the greatest countermeasure for cooling inside a helmet.  The shorter it got, the better the ventilation.  And helmet hair???  We don’t get no stinking helmet hair! 

Now that its clear why I have willingly shaved my head for a long time, I took it a took the next step - the Mach 3.  A week or two ago, my wife asked me to shave my head.  It sounds strange I know, but I was kind of happy because I too have been wanting to do the same.  The problem is that I didn’t have any facial hair and would certainly look like an alien…so we waited a few days.

A Tuesday night rolled around and it was time to do the deed.  I skinned my scalp without a cut.  I then asked what to do with the facial hair.  A beard, a gotee, what?  She then drew a shape on my face with her finger and said “do that”.  The end product as it turns out is a beard with the sideburns that carry behind my ears.

The following night I made two discoveries.  The first was that my one day old haircut was like the ‘hook’ part of velcro.  What felt like a baby’s ass the day before now was a sandpaper weapon.  Everything stuck to my head.  Towels, shirts, etc. could not be pulled over my head, they must be lifted first otherwise I would risk a neck injury.

The second thing i learned that night was the motive behind my new look.  My wife watches American Idol.  I was walking through the kitchen and she said “isn’t that guy cute?”.  Ugh.  Apparently I had been improved to look like the skinhead on American Idol.  That is ten dimerits in the He-man Woman Haters club.  Not good.

I still thought I would see even a greater improvement in helmet comfort going from a little hair to no hair.  That didn’t really happen.  Velcro is a great 2-part material: the hook side (my head) and the soft loop side (my helmet liner).  Putting my helmet on takes a great deal of force - I actually laugh sometimes.  Removing it is even worse.  Imagine the feeling removing a helmet two sizes too small that was sprayed with contact adhesive.  Not only has the inner liner pulled out a couple times, but yes they remained stuck to my head.

Now I’m one who can laugh at myself, but I have two problems.  I have yet to carry a camera (Doug - I haven’t learned yet ) and it friggin’ hurts.  I am considerring growing some minimal hair back so I don’t have to shave my head daily.  I shower twice a week at work because I go in early to work out.  I could shave my head there, but the main bathroom is also the locker room and I have a problem with the (ahem) ‘air-quality’ by the sinks as every guy in the place is taking their morning dump…eight feet away.

Time will tell what happens.  Maybe I’ll try to work out at home.  Maybe I’ll have to buy one of those ridiculous looking silk beenie things that I have always made fun.  One thing is for sure, if I do grow my hair out a little, my wife will probably miss having sex with that American Idol knock-off.