Some of the worst experiences of my life have been haircuts...

Week Ten:Give Myself a Haircut

Haircuts have generally been an intimidating experience in my life. I usually put them off a bit too long due to all the negative emotions involved and when I finally succumb, I’m rarely pleased with the outcome. I’m not vain enough for haircuts to be considered a dreadful occurrence but overall they’re a hassle I would rather not deal with. In fact, getting a haircut is kind of like going to a strip club. There’s an overall uneasiness leading up to the encounter followed by anxious waiting and then you have to pay some haggard skank too much money for an unsatisfying experience. There simply needs to be a better way for this to happen. Therefore, for this week’s adventure in Fifty-two to Thirty, I will be giving myself a haircut.

Now before I get ahead of myself, let me break down a brief history of haircuts in my life. For starters, I’ve never liked my hair. As a kid, it was always too thick and wavy to manage in any fashionable way and since it was the 80s, there was usually a lot of it. This issue was only exacerbated between ten and twelve years old when I decided I wanted to look like the Ultimate Warrior and sculpted the all too familiar and terrifying hairstyle we now know as the mullet. Mine was a doozy too - very thick and fluffy but not too pretty. I didn’t know any better and after all it was cool at the time.

Once this stage mercilessly ended I spent a few years with a standard short and fluffy style, often resorting to hairspray to spackle my mane into obedience. Nothing too drastic occurred again until I was around 14 and thought it would be a good idea to dye my hair green. Several attempts were made with various color agents – all with less than stellar results. I’m not sure which instance I prefer: the time I used food coloring (my brother Pat’s idea) and turned everything above my belly button green - except my hair, of course; or the time I used the Halloween color spray before a football game freshman year. Once again, it stuck to my face and the inside of the helmet but the sweat managed to keep it off my hair. Needless to say, this phase was short lived.

Following my green period, I decided to try my luck with the standard grunge-rock style of the day by shaving the back and sides of my head while growing my hair long on top. While many of my straight-haired friends had success with this style (as greasy and stringy as that success may have been) I wasn’t so lucky. Instead, my thick and fuzzy locks grew outwards a bit faster than they grew down until finally I had what has been described as two hairy triangles stuck to the sides of head. I suffered through this design for several months until the first humid day of spring. After passing a mirror on this particularly muggy afternoon and realizing how ridiculous I looked I headed straight to the nearest SuperCuts.

This was 1996 and, with a few brief exceptions, it’s been a standard short cut ever since – worn spiky, pointy, messy or some variation of the three and held together by various products. The only thing that really changed during this period was my growing uneasiness with the whole haircut experience. Once my hair reached the stage where it was nearly impossible to manage I would simply head down to SuperCuts. However, I soon realized every visit was a gamble. On some occasions I would walk out with a nice, average, no-nonsense trim. Other times, however, the stylist might physically assault me and leave me looking like a mangy dog. In fact, during one of my more recent visits to this establishment I felt like a sheep being sheared at the state fair as the girl practically straddled me and got me in a headlock. And while I didn’t so much mind the straddling, I can’t believe I actually paid for what amounted to a buzz cut. Definitely not what I asked for.

Now, it would be negligent of me if I were to leave out a short window of haircut Zen I experienced during the years I lived in North Buffalo. During this time I discovered Charlie the Barber on Hertel Avenue and all my problems were solved. Charlie is a totally awesome old man that gives a perfect haircut for $10 while talking about football, hockey and golf. Life was good when I was visiting Charlie but since moving to West Seneca last summer I haven’t been able to make the trip. My work schedule aligns with his hours so unless I start taking days off for haircuts I just can’t find the time. Therefore, I returned to SuperCuts with typical results and that is what inspired me for what is now Week 10 of Fifty-two to Thirty – Give Myself a Haircut.

The last thing I wanted to do was jump into this adventure blind so as usual I did my research. After scouring the Internet, I assembled the necessary tools, washed my hair and stood boldly in front of the bathroom mirror. With clippers in hand I started with a # 3 attachment and began trimming up from the back of my neck. The directions recommend starting at the bottom and working your way up so after successfully bringing the back and sides to an acceptable length, the next step was to use the comb and scissors to blend the edges before moving to the top. Unfortunately, I severely underestimated the difficulty of the reverse hand-eye coordination necessary for using scissors in a mirror.

I spent about five very unsuccessful minutes trying to cut the clumps of hair gathered between fingers on the top of my head. This was a very disorienting experience and I may have cut about twelve individual hairs during this entire attempt. Despite being disheartened at this fiasco I was determined to see this thing to completion. Therefore, I ditched the scissors and decided to take the easy way out – grabbing the # 8 attachment for the top and #6 to blend it with the sides. This approach required me to pull the clippers back and forth across my head many times to ensure all the hairs are the same length. It’s not a science but it’s effective.

Satisfied with this step, I used the # 6 attachment to blend the top with the sides. When I realized this wasn’t doing the trick I decided to take decisive action and switch to the # 4. This was a bit of a gamble as I was a little nervous about going too low and being forced to sport the military look. Trust me, with this giant melon it would not be a great look. Thankfully, however, the gamble paid off and I was pleased with my side transition.

Now that I was satisfied with the length and blend of my hair, I was in need of a spot check to make sure the line in the back of my head was straight and smooth. I could easily tell this was not the case and I definitely did not feel confident enough to attempt to this on my own. Thankfully, my wonderful mother was available to even out this line thus putting on the finishing touches. All that remained was the clean up, which wasn’t as bad as expected but I’m sure I’ll be finding pieces of hair in the bathroom for weeks to come.

Overall, I was satisfied with the final result of my first self-haircut. I went into this experience hoping for enough success that I could regularly cut my own hair for the sake of ease and value. I might just be on my way. However, while I’m definitely not the fancy-pants type that is willing to spend thirty bucks on a hair cut, a professional touch might not be such a bad idea. Therefore, until I start feeling a little more confident, I think I’m going to have to start scheduling visits with Charlie.