GI Jane and Me

So, something happened while I was cutting my hair tonight. Let me backtrack a little and tell a quick story. Many years ago, my girlfriend and I were flat-dead-broke. She was in school; I was underemployed. Our rent wasn't much (the house wasn't much either) and fortunately we were able to take advantage of leftovers from the restaurant where my girlfriend worked, but extras were non-existent. Like eye brow waxing, for example. No problem. We bought a waxing kit and Melinda (She won't mind if I use her name) volunteered to do mine. And she was good at it. But I think there was some wine one night, then a rip and a really strange look on her face. What? I asked. Let me get a mirror, she replied. She handed me the mirror and quickly backed away. Is that all? I asked. She'd taken off a good chunk of one of  my eyebrows. Relief washed over her. To this day, she says that was the moment she learned the true essence of Grace.

Ok, fast-forward a decade and a half. This morning I was commiserating with one of my young male co-workers about the shaggy state of our hair. I told him that if the thermometer got over 100 degrees one more time, I was cutting mine off. We laughed, both full well knowing that it was only a matter of time. On my way home from work this afternoon, my car registered 102. My mind was made up. (Look, I'm still broke, not as broke as Melinda and I were back in the day. But publishing books and traveling to Europe are expensive hobbies and require prioritization of non-essentials). After dinner (and stone-cold sober, might I add) I went into the bathroom, stripped down (It gets hairy messy, especially with as much hair as I had), and pulled my clippers out of the linen closet. As I plugged them in I whispered a prayer (Yes, I know.....to the God I don't believe in) that the clippers would keep working through the entire haircut. You see, they're old and every time I use them I swear I'll get new ones before I cut my hair with them again. One of these times, they were going to let me down midway through. I was absolutely certain.

Anywho, I slipped my usual #4 guard on the clippers and got after it. I'm used to the clippers - they're old and not as user-friendly as they once were. It takes a hot minute to get certain sections of my head trimmed up. At one point, when I felt like I was almost done, I stopped to take a look in the mirror. I slid open the drawer and got out the little pocket mirror I save for exactly this occasion. Sure enough, I'd missed a substantial spot near the crown of my head (It's always the tough spot for me to get). As I was trying to switch the clippers back on, the unthinkable happened. I dropped them. On the hard, apparently unforgiving tile of the bathroom floor.

THUD - CRACK - SKITTER. 

Well, fuck. That can't be any good, I recall thinking. I found  the clippers immediately and mercifully they turned on as soon as I flipped the switch. Hmm.... Where's the guard? Must have popped off. I reached around the toilet and found it. As I tried to slide it back on, I made the realization that changed my hair's destiny for the next couple of months.

I cutting my hair tonight was perfectly timed. I have three months until my annual trip to see my mom. In two months, a #4 guard cut would be more than grown out enough to not upset her. By three months, I'd be golden. Not too short and not too shaggy. A win all the way around.

Enough with the suspense. What did I discover when I picked up the missing #4 guard?  A couple important parts had broken off, like the clips that hold it in place, rendering it unusable. Oh, I tried to make it work. I even tried to see if I could maybe just trim the section of my head with the bare clippers. I mean if I was reeeeaaallly careful it might work. After one pass I knew it wasn't going to work. I contemplated my options

1. Shower the hair off my near naked body, get dressed, clap a hat on my head, and beat it to Target to get new clippers. 
2. Use the only remaining guard - the #3 - and hope my hair doesn't end up too short (and grows quickly enough not to piss off Mom in October).

Well, given the former wasn't going to work budget-wise (I was giving myself a haircut for a reason), I chose the latter. With happy, hopeful thoughts in my head, I slipped the #3 on the clippers. 

Yikes. 

I haven't shaved my head this short since the very first time back in 2008. I took a deep breath and I told myself the same thing I told Melinda on that fateful night when the eyebrow waxing went awry - It'll grow back. And it's absolutely true (Well, with the marked exception of the three and a half years it took me to grow my hair long enough to donate it and check that little number off my Bucket List, hair grows). So, here we sit. I'm certain it's already growing. 

As with everything in my life, I'm choosing to look at the bright side. Let's run through the exercise together, shall we? In no particular order...

• I won't need shampoo for a good month, maybe two.

• That hairbrush I always seem forget on overnight trips? Don't need it. 

• I did it now, not a month before going to see my mom.

• I won't get as many weird stares in restrooms. I look like I'm undergoing chemo. Which garners a lot more sympathy that the confused transgendered person who can't seem to find the right restroom. 

• When I look in the mirror, I see GI Jane. I usually prefer longer, curly hair but I reeeaaally like GI Jane's shaved head. Now I get to see her all the time.

And that brings me to the most important point and why I like to cut my own hair (Ok, shave my head. Let's call it what it is) even when money isn't an issue. When I get done, the woman I see in the mirror may look  a lot like GI Jane........but she also looks a lot like Stacee. I know to many of you my hair is too short (WAY TOO SHORT), especially after I had to trade out my usual #4 guard. However, to me, when my hair is this short, it's perfect. Because when I look in the mirror I see ME. 

Not my mom (We have cowlicks in the same places and get the same damn wings when it gets too long).

Not GI Jane. 

Me. 

And I like me very much. 

*** Ok, I wish the guard hadn't broken so my hair wouldn't be this short. And I'm going to have to wear a hat to work for awhile. Still, there's Grace in all of it. Just like the day a chunk of my eyebrow disappeared in one quick rip. Hair grows. And the face I see in the mirror is mine. ***