I Need a Haircut

When I'm tired and/or bored, I have an unconscious habit of running my fingers across my head. Not sure why; perhaps it's an instinctive, subconscious mannerism intended to stimulate blood flow to a deprived brain... or something like that. But whenever I notice that I'm rubbing my skull a lot, it's a sure sign that I need to either take a nap or drink a caffeinated beverage. (This manifestation of mental fatigue happens a lot during long spells of driving across Kansas, and almost continuously during staff meetings.)

Please don't take this as commentary on the relative level of excitement and mental stimulation to be found in the performance of my day job, but...I've been noticing a lot of this involuntary scalp massage happening lately. I seem to suddenly notice my hands in my hair at multiple points throughout the day. But I don't think I've increased the level of autonomic self-massage activity; I suspect that it happens pretty much all the time, but I'm just now noticing it because my hair is so bloody long at the moment.

So, instead of feeling a crispy buzz when I rub my noggin, now my fingers are getting lost in a jungle of Fabio-like locks. So, instead of feeling the stubbly push-back that helps me wake up from those doldrums, I'm now being lulled into further stupor by the sensual feeling of long, soft tresses.

I gotta get a haircut soon, for that reason alone.

At the same time, it rather reminds me of a time, hundreds of years ago -- when I was myself a candidate to be a romance novel cover model. With a swimmer's golden tan, and sun-ripened highlights in my hair, I spend many a day wearing half-open pirate shirts and holding buxom women in my arms while gazing off in the distance as if calculating the square root of pi. Ahh, those were the days.

—Wait...that's not what it was like at all. Oh, I was tan, all right -- but only because I swam 4 hours a day and spent another hour or two lying on the pool deck soaking up rays in the pursuit of the health and vigor. We all knew that being cooked by the Sun's vitamin-packed UV rays was the best way to ensure a long, healthy life...as well as eternal good looks and attractive skin.

(And if you know me at all, you've already deduced that I have never owned any pirate shirts, was too nearsighted to gaze into the distance, and would've been slapped with a restraining order if I so much as looked at a buxom woman. I was skinny, goofy-looking, and socially inept. But by golly, I was tan.)

But what does that have to do with my current need for a haircut? Well, it turns out that overexposure to the sun may not be as healthy as we had once believed. In fact, several years ago, I ended up having a small patch of skin cancer removed. It was benign--no big deal-- but the doctor explained that my days as a sun worshiper had put me at risk for developing other such outbreaks. He said that I'd need to monitor my skin carefully and be ready to check with a physician any time I noticed dermatalogical changes. And recently, I've noticed that the top of my head has kinda itchy.

It's probably just irritation from chlorine or sweat -- or perhaps a reaction to all the cranial heat generated by my gigantic brain as I work on challenging proposals and blogs and whatnot. (Or maybe it's some sort of acid burn caused by residual perfume floating around in the office atmosphere, eh?) But not being trained in dermatology (and not being able to see the top of my own head anyway), I made an appointment to visit the doctor. And he won't be able to see the skin if there's too much hair in the way. Ergo, I need a haircut.

I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, be sure to enjoy our lovely Spring weather. But wear your sunscreen, OK?

Have a great day!