It’s getting too much.

It’s getting too much. I’m so over this, I can’t even bear to look at my reflection anymore. Something has to change. It’s got to give and that something is my hair. 

I can’t be one of those guys, walking around not feeling confident, not feeling, or looking my best self. There’s no way I can have that dodgy overgrown Elvis quiff, nor can I deal with a badly hacked at hair cut from my girlfriend, but this fluffy untamable hair that all mums love has to go.

In normal circumstances, my go-to is that classic one on the sides and trim on top from Mem’s on lordship lane. Back in the glory days of my hair, in the trusted hands of my barber, I’d lay back, watch some European football, discussing things like why my barber’s Subaru is the best car in the world, or why to be a good barber you need expensive scissors. No thoughts required and always in guarantee of that perfect fade.

I think back to the days when I could play around with my hair. I used to often shave and bleach my hair for literally no reason than probably for female attention and replies to my Instagram stories, but that flippant behaviour is a lot riskier without my barber’s safety net. 

My mind has been fighting between that Jesus look or that becks shaved head look. Jesus’ look is timeless but takes a lot of care and drying time when leaving the shower. And with shaving, they say ‘it’ll grow back’, but it’s that painful 2 weeks of my dog potentially not recognising me, to run back to in the park, worst yet my girlfriend might not fancy me anymore.

But without my guy at Mem’s, there really is only one answer, I’m just going to have to shave the whole thing. Beckham in the 90’s looked good and so did Brad Pitt. And Phillip Laskaris is killing it right now with that pink shaved look. Hopefully, I will too, and still have a dog and a girlfriend.