So I got a haircut over the weekend. You’d think this would be a pretty unremarkable event. I would too, except for the fact that just about all of my coworkers have in fact remarked on it, some of them practically swooning when the first laid eyes on me today.
I swear, I get a haircut about every two months or so. Maybe I went a bit longer than usual this time, or maybe I just cut a shorter cut than I usually do, but I really didn’t think it was that much of a change.
Of course, I still recall my graduate student days, when my haircut schedule was approximately “once per equinox, or just before my parents see me, whichever I can afford”. Compared to that, the difference in my pre-haircut and post-haircut look nowadays is like the difference between Dubya’s economic plan pre-deficit and post-deficit.
Maybe they’re just giving me a hard time. Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t wear the brand-new shiny white sneakers as well. Some of them might have blown a gasket trying to figure out what to razz me about first.