For the last 8 months or so, my husband’s hair has looked like this:
He usually grows it out long, refusing to cut or even trim it for literally years. This past year has seen a new low in hair maintenance, however, with the arrival of the dreaded dreadlocks. Dreads can look great on some people, but Chris never actually decided to do dreads, which usually involves a fair amount of maintenance, he just stopped combing his hair and let them come. The result was huge matty masses.
Every 4 or 5 years or so, Chris decides to cut all his hair off. There’s no in between stage. The last time he did it we had gone out on Alex Dunne’s boat with Alex and Mark Deloura, and Chris got sunburned and caught a cold at the same time. Afterwards, Mark came back home with us. Chris’s long hair was in his face and bugging him as his eyes were tearing up from the cold, so he excused himself to the bathroom and shaved his head. We didn’t know what he was doing; I finally went to check on him and found him snuffling in a huge pile of hair in the bathroom sink, 80% shorn. While Mark and I were having a beer or something.
That was 1999. He’s been growing it with minor mowings since then. I should mention that when I first met him in 1996 he had extremely short hair, and I found it very attractive. Okay one last look:
Today the cycle began again. We were worried that Clementine might freak out if her dad suddenly looked very different, so we waited til she woke up from her nap so she could watch it all happen. I got out the good scissors my mom gave me for sewing many years ago (I sadly don’t sew often enough to dull them) and proceeded to snip the dreads off at the base. There was no way the buzzer was going through that thick, nasty mat. When I was done, Chris had something resembling hasidim curls in the front and this in the back:
Then came the clippers which needed many many passes to their job adequately. We intended to use the longest setting (#4) but found after the first few minutes that we had accidentally attached the #3 comb instead. You can’t really change at that point, so we just mowed ahead, so to speak. The results:
The change was long overdue, in my opinion, and I think he looks adorable. Much more boyish and cute. I now actually want to touch his hair and rub his head; the dreads were not inviting in any way. Of course, it’s still an adjustment. I see him and wonder for a moment who he is and how he got in the house. Clementine was initially very concerned, but seemed to have completely adjusted in a about half an hour. She and I laid out the shorn dreads on her diaper changing pad and took pictures for posterity. (Note the big octopus-looking one; that one and its many branches stuck out from the back of his head in a less than elegant manner.) Daddy’ll probably (hopefully) never have dreads again.