teddwebb

When I was a young child, my Mom cut my hair. I hated getting my hair cut.

When I was growing up, my Dad always dictated how my hair should be cut. I hated
having to keep my hair cut so freaking short.

Now, there was a short, few years in High School when my parents let me go through
my “angst phase.” I had my orange hair punk phase with the sides shaved and I let
the front grow down to my chin. We were all freaks back then. I had my “skater hair”
phase when I got into skate boarding heavily where me and my buddies pretty much
took shears and hacked up each other’s hair trying to get that modish shaggy bowl
cut, but of course, we kept it covered most of the time with knotted up dew rags.
But you know I was never quite satisfied with any of those dues either because I
was mostly going along with the crowd.

When I graduated High School, I went direction into the Army for Four Years. Well,
I wore everything from the “Standard Shaved Head,” to the 1/8th of an inch “Screaming
Eagle,” to the “Ranger Roll Horseshoe,” to the “Short-Timer’s Pushing-The-Reg’s-Limit
Bushy” haircut. During my post-brainwashing time after Basic Training, Advanced
Individual Training, Cryptography School, and Electronic Warfare Combat Signals
Intelligence Training, I did rather enjoy the Ranger Roll. It looked slick, cool,
hardcore, but as the brainwashing wore off and I returned to a more normal human
thinking person, I began to see it as a rather stupid looking super-short haircut.

After my Four Years of Service, I entered into the Workforce in the South. Well,
the business workforce in the South has no place for freedom of expression in men’s
hair. Nope, in the South, A Man wears his hair “cropped” short and kept neat. So,
again I was relegated to following someone else’s rules as to how to keep my hair
cut, how to style it.

Well, in 2002 Sheri and I moved to the land of Free Love, Sex, Drugs, and Rock-n-Roll.
Yep, we moved to Anaheim, about 4 blocks from Disneyland with a beautiful view of
the Disneyland nightly fireworks show! I got a respectable high-level IT job working
for a mid-size half a billion dollar a year company that was growing fast. I walked
in and I was well dressed and had nice short East Coast hair. And there were people
everywhere dressed sloppily and with long messy hair and I was shocked!!! My BOSS
even had a pony tail, but he kept it very tight, very clean and neatly kept, very
professional looking and he always dressed very, very professionally, so the pony
tail could obviously be forgiven and overlooked. However, other than him, all of
the people in power, the Managers, the Directors, the Vice Presidents, and the Presidents,
all kept their hair like mine and they all wore suits, East Coast Style. So yeah,
I “could” grow my hair out and wear it any way that I liked, IF I didn’t care about
making a good impression, IF I had no aspirations, IF I had no drive to move ahead,
because as far as the eye could see, none of “those free love dirty hippies” filled
any of those positions. SO, yet again, I was forced to keep my hair short and neatly
styled.

When Multiple Sclerosis, Unknown Neurological Disorder, Dementia, ADHD, and 4 Disc
Protrusions (10mm, 5mm, 3mm, 3mm) finally beat me, and I had fought hard, very hard,
fought successfully too I might add, for 6 YEARS, and I was forced to retire early
from the job that was the best job that I had ever had in my entire life, I decided
things were going to change. I figured that I was now 38 years old and I had NEVER,
in my ENTIRE LIFE been able to grow my hair the way that I wanted to grow it. Hell!
I don’t even know what my own hair looks like even! I said Fuck It! I’m going to
just grow my hair out like a wild man. I had a vision of John the Baptist and I’ve
clung to that image ever since and not let go.

It’s been growing now for a year and just last week I relented and let Sheri take
me to her fancy Newport Beach Salon Stylist to give me back my blond highlights.
I do have to admit that I have very much missed my blond highlights. And she trimmed
off all my split ends, but other than that, she didn’t cut 1 inch off of my hair.
My original intention was to have it layered and cut a little shorter or something,
but after she got her hands on my hair, she didn’t want to cut it – she just wanted
to trim the split ends, show me a little how to style it, give me some Moroccan
Oil to put in it, for some unknown and as yet understood reason by me, and gave
me some tips and sent me out the door and told me to practice and come back and
see her in a couple months.

Now me, I’m thinking Farrah Faucet meets John the Baptist.

All Sheri see’s is Barry Gibb.

Nice.

I’m not sure where she get’s her idea’s from because I just can’t see the similarities…

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