Haircut

My wife says I need a haircut. I don't disagree. My mane has become a bit overbearing. It might be best described as sort of a muted afro-puff.

And yet, I resist the haircut. It's not that I love, or even like, the coiffure I now sport. In fact, I find it a royal nuissance to wash, condition, and style.

However, as I walked from my lab to my car late one night, I happened to catch my shadow beneath the streetlights. The grey silhouette was striking. My head cast a shadow of stunning proportion. Not since college have I been so struck by anyone's cranial circumferance. Atop my slender physique, the gargantuan head made me look positively cartoonish. And, to be honest, I dug it.

If you asked my wife, she'd tell you that my greatest fantasy in life is to have a bobblehead doll fashioned in my image. If I wiggle my head just so under the city lights, my ground-level blackened image brings giant bobbleheads to mind. This brings me great joy after long, maddening days at the lab bench.

So, the haircut will have to wait until the burden of carrying such a heavy cerebral load outweighs the benefits of the size of the shadow I cast.


Originally Posted: Tuesday, March 17, 2007
(Then) Curent Mood: content
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