Snip, Snip

A friend told me of a stylist she loved, and that was all it took to finally push me to do something about the hair.

Kyle and I had a great time visiting this morning, and the salon very kindly took care of mailing in my hair donation for me.

He offered a fascinating insight after I asked him about some of the stories he’s heard in the chair. He talked about the intimacy that is involved in letting someone touch your head and that’s one of the reasons he believes the salon chair becomes almost a confessional for some people. Of course, he was also a philosophy major and studied to be a priest, so he’s had time to think of all this.

I’m tickled with my shorter hair, although Yessa refuses to say she likes it.

“I can’t get used to it. It’s the same as when Buster got his hair cut.”

I think she’ll come around.

You may call me “Bob.”