Saturday, January 30, 2010

The many hairs of Eric Robinette

Every time I come back from the stylist, the chorus remains the same:

"Hey, I see ya got your ears lowered!"

"Where did your hair go?"

"Who are you?"

"Hey, wow, ya got your hair cut!"

And to that last one, I often reply: "I got all of them cut, actually."

(Insert either raucous laughter or the sad trombone, whichever you prefer.)

 But lest anyone think I'm despairing, I promise I'm not. I'm quite used to this. My hair has been a point of conversation all my life.  And I do mean ALL my life.

Take, for instance, this childhood photo of me from about 1973 or so. Yes, I am publicly admitting that is me.


Why it was thought this was a good look for me, I still don't know. It sure wasn't my idea. I personally prefer the look I sported a bit later, when I was about 5. I actually remember posing for this shot, too. 

Kinda looks like a Beatle cut, doesn't it? Which is funny, considering my real Beatlemania didn't hit for another five years.

These days I sport two basic looks - the semi-buzz, seen here  with my Clockwork Orange glower. Beleve it or not, I DO have a scalp.

And then there's helmet hair, as seen on my birthday a couple of years ago.

People always notice when I get a hair cut (or my hairs cut) because I don't go at regular intervals, like, say, once a month. And funnily enough, I do not follow the example of John Lennon, whose hairstyle was once called into question in court. John was testifying in a case revolving around the illegal issue of his Rock N' Roll oldies album. The bootleg had a picture of John with long hair. He showed up in court with short hair. When the other side's lawyer was cross-examining John on the stand, the lawer asserted that John must have cut his hair specifically for the trial.

John shot back,  "Rubbish. I cut it every 18 months."

Believe me, if I waited 18 months, my hair would probably be three stories high. No, I go by an entirely different gauge. I head to the stylist when it takes more than three minutes to fix it every morning. An excess of 180 seconds on my head is just ridiculous.

And when I go to the stylist, they may cut my hair, but they sure don't cut me a break. Almost every one of them  jokes about how much hair I've got. One of the most common remarks is, "You'll never have to worry about going bald."

No, I suppose I won't at that. And indeed, I only recently got a rather frightening look at the future. This is me just this past New Year's Eve, with a couple of very good friends of mine. I swear on my John Lennon collection no Photoshop or other alterations have been applied.


Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four? Hoo!

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