If you had long hair for a good part of your college life, it’s never easy to say goodbye to it. Especially when people who don’t know your name call you “Kulot” or “Long Hair” instead. It had become sort of my identity in my freshmen year and having a haircut seemed the same as changing my name.
I thought it was an experiment of sorts since I had spent most of my childhood with a barber’s cut and a two-by-three haircut just to avoid being jailed in the assistant principal’s office. Maybe it was an attempt to escape the nerdy, good-boy look which my family and friends cast me since childhood. Maybe I wanted to disobey my mother, who always wanted me to have a clean haircut, since I knew it made her mad to have a long-haired bum for a son. Maybe it was a pathetic “if-I-can’t-be-a-rockstar-at-least-I-could-look-like-one” dream – a delusion I’d long since given up on cause I can’t play a guitar if it would save my life.
Sometimes, I think it’s because I really wanted to be different from the rest. Maybe it was because it gave me a certain boost of confidence facing challenges in my life. Or maybe because I love the feeling when I walk in the streets and my hair catches the wind as a stray strand tickles my face.
It was only last week when I was spending a lot of myself gazing at the mirror, trying to maintain the picture of myself with a shoulder-length hair, a mustache and a short-goatee. You see, I’m one of those men with unusually long hair. But I had to change my image to look decent and responsible as a college student. I needed to cut my hair for someone named Delilah.
1 comments:
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kya pla, :)
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