O-oh Say Can You See My Eyes (if you can then my hair’s too short)…

Today is haircut day. Now, I know when I began writing The Loudmouth Bear, I made a promise that I would never blog about inane things like cute stuff my cat puked up or organizing socks, and I’m not. Believe it or not, blogging about a haircut you’re about to get can be quite cutting edge… I promise that wasn’t intentional…

I remember a joke about a customer walking into a hair salon and pointing at a picture on the wall. “I want to look like that,” the customer explains. The stylist nods and smiles and begins cutting, all the while thinking, “That’s a professional model and you are a fat pig. Good luck.”

Now, I am not so far gone that I can’t be partially “saved” by a new haircut but which to choose? What face do I want to see staring back at mine? I am torn between two pals right now. George Clooney, who has a classic look, is the first and I wouldn’t feel the least bit anxious about marching into mid-life looking half as well as he does. The other, is Brad Pitt: still classic but with the youthful tinge, a dash of Peter Pan if you like.

I appreciate the classics but I think that the large dose of Peter Pan I carry around is not quite ready to be George Clooney… yet. Besides, I’m a guy and for a guy any day with hair is a good hair day.

The big decision will probably come mere seconds before the haircut begins. But that won’t matter because you will probably never know. Blogging about the haircut you got is just plain boring.




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