Experiments With My Hair

Experiments With My Hair
12th January 2002

It’s the only thing about me that I wish I could change. My hair. The wild mop of hair that adorns the top of my gorgeous head.

Let’s get a few facts straight about my hair. The only time it’s straight is when I’ve just emerged from my shower without towelling it dry. The only time it’s curly is when – never - actually.

The best way to describe it is a mop of, well, hair. It’s wavy, it’s knotted, it’s definitely tangled. And there’s no way I can style it permanently.

When I was in school I used to part it, as per the instructions of my female parent. Mom used to watch me every morning as I painstakingly used a fine-tooth comb to part my hair on the right. It was a skill that took me years to accomplish – but one that was totally useless.

What would happen is simple. The hair would be firmly in place till I got off the school bus in the morning. By then it had been ruffled, blown, tangled or otherwise disfigured. And it would sit there all day long until I reached home and painstakingly parted it again.

Then there were the problems I faced when my hair would overgrow its natural length, which was quite often. My sideburns would stick in my ear. My hair would fall all over my forehead. And then my friends would promptly and immaturely tease and criticise me for looking like a descendent of the Abominable Snowman.

The day after I finished my SSC exams, I decided that I had had enough. So I went in to this posh, upmarket hairstyling saloon for a change. After taking one look at my anterior follicle growth, the sexily plump female hairstylist threw up her hands and remarked, "What can I do? There isn’t much hair to work with!"

However, she persevered and imparted to me the basic style that has been with me since then. There is no parting any more (parting is such sweet sorrow, eh?). Instead, I comb my hair back using a multi-pronged hairbrush.

This was the look that lasted for a long while. However, I feel very uncomfortable when my hair grows back more than an inch or so. Then I’d go back to the barber and ask him to cut it short. And promptly be mistaken for some sort of Buddhist monk.

The variations in my hairstyle have followed thusly.

• The Spike: This is actually an Elvis puff. It involves leaving only a part of my hair (i.e. the part right over my forehead) a little longer than the rest of the hair. The puff is then curled and straightened upwards. Suitable application of hair gel completes the look.
• The Emperor: Long sideburns and an almost completely shaved scalp complete the look. I first tried it out a few days after my LASIK surgery. Frankly, it suits the Romans or Sachin Tendulkar more than it suits me.
• The Short and the Straight: Short hair. Really short hair. Need I say more?
• The Lid: The top of my hair is cut a little longer than the sides or the back, making it look like something’s sitting on my hair. Not too bad, actually.
• The Simpson: Bartman – do the Bartman. A Bart Simpson cut where my hair protrudes extensively from all sides. This is my current style. The only problem is that it requires extensive applications of hair gel. So my expenses have increased slightly.

I’ve only been talking about the hair on my head, so it’s time to switch to the follicle growth on the other parts of my anatomy.

Firstly, I seem to have some sort of hormonal disorder. My cheeks are almost as smooth (and bare) as a baby’s bottom. I have yet to grow a beard. My attempts at a French beard or a goatee have all come to naught. Even the single strip of hair running down the cleft of my chin refuses to grow properly.

Secondly, I’ll discuss the problems with my chest hair. Or rather, the soft tufts of springy black material emanating from the pores of my skin. Nope. No new developments in that region either.
However, the hair under my armpits, legs and other places seems to be flourishing to the maximum.

Returning to the subject of my head, I have developed a case of Mutatus Dandrufii. Head & Shoulders doesn’t seem to work. The only shampoo that gave me relief was a sulphuric one that I used prior to my LASIK, but that stinks. Dettol and Himalaya seem to work a little better, but the problem persists.

Actually, I doubt I’ll have these problems for long. So I’m going to stop cribbing. Looking at my Dad’s receding hairline, I’ll doubt I’ll have too much hair after the age of 50. I’m going to enjoy the limited time I have left with my hair.

It’s a case of hair today, gone tomorrow.