Reset Password
Reset Link Sent
| Blogs > hotdreamer1000 > While I was Dreaming |
Scissoring
|
Scissoring For some reason I often feel inspired to blog after having a haircut. An opportunity to walk through town and see sexy women perhaps. Or the intimate nature of the haircutting process itself. Whatever. This time I was ruminating on the unappealing state of the top of my head as I sat looking in the mirror opposite, waiting my turn in a rather soulless cut'n'run unisex barbershop in Bloghampton High Street. Quite often when I look in the mirror these days I fail to see the me I expect to see looking back. The me I expect to see doesn't seem to exist anywhere other than inside my head any more. Certainly not on the top of my head, which has a lot less hair going for it than back in the days, long ago, back before the dawn of time where there are no words... oh no wait a minute, that's another blog post. Where was I? Oh yes, a lot less hair than back in the days when I first put up my profile here, and allowed myself to describe my head as "somewhat balding." You can still see plenty of not too grey hair behind The Time Traveller's Wife in my user picture. But that picture is out of date, and the simple word "bald" would more accurately describe the outer dome of the dreamery these days. Happily, I am still young at heart, slim and reasonably fit - I still play the sport I love to a relatively high amateur level, and I walk faster than most people. I noticed this as I sat waiting my turn, avoiding the mirror by looking out of the window. Good Lord no wonder people are putting on weight these days. I watched as sad looking potatoes wandered by outside. Not one of them had a stride length of more than 28 inches and most were going at a pace my mother would have beaten while out pushing a lawnmower in her last few years on earth. Still it was a beautiful day, late afternoon early spring sunshine and despite the dead-beat immediate population in front of me, I felt good about the world. My stylist, - I am using the word loosely - beckoned me over and got out the trimmers set to number 4. They don't bother with scissors on me; there really isn't enough on top to play with any more. My thoughts went back to my mother and her lawn. This was more like having my hair mown than cut. The stylist pulled undecidedly at a few upwardly mobile hairs. She was Greek, and her English was sketchy. "You want this shorter?" she queried. "I think if you take it any lower it will all just stand up on end," I said, experienced. She stroked the top of my head and smiled. "Iss okay, my father....just like this," she consoled me. "Thanks very much," I said. "No, I mean....lots of men.....oh I am so sorry." She looked worried I might not give her a tip. But I was laughing. "It's okay" I smiled, "I probably am old enough to be your father." If I started bloody young I thought. She looked about thirty five or forty. Big hips and a fat arse, but not unattractive. At least her fingers didn't smell like they had been up it five minutes earlier, like the last one I had. |
|||
|
xxxxxxxxx
| ||
|
xxxxxxxxx
| ||
|
Oh come on! Surely you can do better than this???!!! Btw I also get inspired to write after haircuts. Something about being a slightly different newer me.
| ||
|
You got 9 X's? Man I only got 6 in my comments section. He must really like you. Btw I also get inspired to write after haircuts. Something about being a slightly different newer me. Maybe that's it, not so much a new me, but the old me, back to my best after they cut all the grey bits off.
| ||
|
I always feel better after a haircut and the dye has been put in. Makes me feel years younger, but still don't believe the person in the mirror is me.  
| ||
|
You're not the only one who doesn't see the real "me" looking back from the mirror...I don't know who stares back at me...I reckon there's a squatter in mine!!!  ~~Anais Nin~~
| ||
|
I do have an image in my head about who I am and what I look like, and it hasn't changed in a very long time. What I notice is not in the mirror but the skin on my arms and my hands looking like they belong to someone much older. It bothers me a bit but not too much. I'm healthy and like myself better now than I ever did. I think it would be a bigger problem if the image in my head ever started to turn into what I think I see when I look at my hands. As long as the image in your head is still young, then so are you. The wrappings are less important. I'm sure you would still look dreamy to me....
| ||
|
I always feel better after a haircut and the dye has been put in. Makes me feel years younger, but still don't believe the person in the mirror is me.
| ||
|
You're not the only one who doesn't see the real "me" looking back from the mirror...I don't know who stares back at me...I reckon there's a squatter in mine!!!
| ||
|
I do have an image in my head about who I am and what I look like, and it hasn't changed in a very long time. What I notice is not in the mirror but the skin on my arms and my hands looking like they belong to someone much older. It bothers me a bit but not too much. I'm healthy and like myself better now than I ever did. I think it would be a bigger problem if the image in my head ever started to turn into what I think I see when I look at my hands. As long as the image in your head is still young, then so are you. The wrappings are less important. I'm sure you would still look dreamy to me.... I wear hats more now, and that isn't just for the sake of looks. Women and young men simply have no idea how painful rain on a bald head can be!
| ||
|
I started going white-haired at 26 - earning me the sign language name "ghost" from some of the Deaf kids in the neighbourhood - but I always felt sort of smug about having only one wrinkle. Well, since starting this job, the aforementioned wrinkle has turned into the Marianas Trench on my forehead, and been joined by half a dozen others. It seems grossly unfair that there exists an inbetween age where it's possible to get both wrinkles and teen acne. I quite like the white hair - I've skipped gray and gone straight to starlight, and I think in another few years I'll look like an anime character - but the wrinkles have finally caused me to rethink my soap-and-water "beauty" regime. I actually bought night cream. And working early mornings in a government building with the most unflattering light ever have forced me to wear makeup daily. Even lipstick. Unfortunately I don't know how to do it...I really am going to have to get someone to show me one of these days. Doubtless this will garner rolled eyes from those with a few decades on me - much as I rolled my own when my school friends started panic-buying anti-wrinkle cream when they turned 20 - but all I can say is, time makes fools of us all. And with the losses of the last few years, I am more aware of my own mortality than I used to be. Some days, anyway. That all said, I did find you marvellously handsome, and imagine that you still are, hair or no hair. Do not seek an external refuge, but be a light unto yourself. "Be the change you want to see." HalfNekkid Wednesday Peekaboo
| ||
|
Hi Stormy, nice touch - the fabulously kind compliment at the end - much appreciated! As others have said, recently, and many times before, it is being young at heart which counts, and I reckon you manage that - an intriguing mixture of old soul and young attitude.
|
Become a member to create a blog
