Shorn
At this point, I’m pretty well committed to the head-shaving process; I seriously doubt that I’ll be growing my hair out any more than few days’ worth any time soon. I just like it shaved off. One weird unexpected side effect, however: every time I walk by a nice looking hair-cutting place, I get this little twinge of something like homesickness. There’s just something really luxurious about sitting in either a fancy stylist’s or a nice barber chair, getting your head worked on. It makes me sad for a moment when I face the reminder that this pleasant experience is no longer for me.
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