Head shrink

I had my head substantially shrunk this morning. It was essential really. You see I really dislike haircuts, always have. Not quite sure why but getting a haircut reaches the same level of procrastination as seeing the dentist and getting my face fried off with a giant magnifying glass. It’s a good year if I make it in more than three times, every four months or so. This means that my hair just keeps getting bigger and fluffier and more unruly until something makes me cut it. In the case of this haircut, there are two main catalysts.
Last week I was on the train. Sitting across from me was a small boy with jam or toxic waste on his face. He looked very happy and kept staring and smiling at me. This happens all the time. Kids just seem to be amazed by the sight of me. Especially redhead kids, they are hypnotized with my presence. I think it is because they are struck with the idea that their hair will remain red and crazy into adulthood. Some of them are happy to learn that redheads reach maturity. But a few times I see a look of desperation as the carrot top kid realizes he will always have flames on his head. Back to Jam face. The kid looked like fun, so I decided to play around with him. I stuck my tongue out, I went cross eyed, I even filled my cheeks with air and did a monkey impression. He was quite pleased and mimicked me with delight. Just when I was ready to offer to pay for his college education things turned ugly. He had now reached a level of comfort with me that he felt the need to say what was really on his mind.
“You need to cut your hair” he exclaimed
I laughed nervously, his mother tried to hush him fumbling with embarrassment.
“But mommy, his hair is all weird and red””

“That’s not a nice thing to say Bernard, tell the man you are sorry”
“Mommy he looks like the bad man from Incredibles" Luckily we had reached my stop so I laughed again like an imbecile and said something like “good looking out kid” as I exited the train.
The second occurrence that led me to believe I had a problem is when my hat started popping off my head from the pressure of the trapped afro beneath. Since my hair had become nearly unmanageable I have been stuffing it under hats. It takes some work to stuff all the hair under the brim on the sides and front. For the last week or so the sheer mass of hair became too much volume for some of my hats to contain. They slowly have been creeping skyward off my head like a weed pushing through soil. A couple times I caught a glimpse of my reflection with a hearty mass of hair exploding off my already large cranium with a cap resting on top.
The lady that cuts my hair is very nice. I always feel bad by supplying her with such a formidable task. She has earned my confidence by providing many positive haircuts. I keep returning to her as a result rather than play the hair style lottery you get with the box cuts places. She likes to talk, a lot. Of course she is a soft talker so I spent the entire time saying “Huh”, and “what’s that”. She probably thinks I am deaf or near deaf. This is further validated by the care she takes around my ears. After this mornings visit my head feels very small. I also feel a little sad. Sampson may keep his strength in his hair, but I keep serotonin in mine.