Gimme a Head with Hair!

by Tom Shafer

January 25, 2021

Okay, so a couple of readers, actually friends, have been clambering for me to post pictures of my numerous hairstyles. Of course, they have known me for nearly forty years and are more than familiar with my various “looks.” Now, I am fully aware that their intent is total and utter humiliation, and that’s perfectly okay, because I have to own all of my “stylings” — literally!

You see, I have never been enamored with other people touching my hair — or any other body parts for that matter. When I was a child, I was the squirmer at the barber shop — and that was after intense negotiations that got me there in the first place. By the time I reached junior high, my parents had given up on haircuts altogether, and my mother, at my urging, actually purchased barber clippers so that I could start performing the task myself.

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And, that has continued for nearly fifty years. Over that time, I can count on one hand the number of hair cuttings completed by other humans — and uncomfortably I might add. A couple of those were attempts at normalizing “the haircut,” the others attempts at undoing accidental damage I had fleeced upon myself. And frankly, only one of those “others” I considered acceptable. Subsequently, my hair was last fashioned by a stylist on Saturday, July 6, 2013, in Estes Park, Colorado — and it was awful!

What you will find below are my own creations, all utilizing a combination of scissors or clippers (I owned a Flowbee back in the early ’90s but sold it to near-cousin George Clooney). Yes, I had a natural ‘fro when I was in high school — which transitioned nicely to a mohawk during my freshman year of college (unfortunately — or fortunately — no pictures exist). I went through many shorn periods, and sported a variety of mullets for almost a decade. My current “style” hasn’t changed in approximately fifteen years, though frequently I self-threaten “to let it go.” However, I can never allow my hair to get past that expected awkward phase to get to an even more awkward phase.

One last observation before “the reveal.” Over the last fifty years or so, very few pictures of me exist. Of course, some are scattered throughout West Carrollton yearbooks (where I taught for thirty years) and I’m certain other family and friends have taken a few. But, it turns out that I am/was usually the one behind the camera taking the picture — which is just fine by me because I happen to love photography. So, gaps appear in my hair timeline — or hair-line — which just might be the best thing that could have happened.

Oh, and by the way, one constant will be noticeably prevalent through all of my “looks,” save the picture of a serious, “must look remorseful for Santa” five-year-old: I am always sporting some type of facial hair. It is not necessarily good facial hair, but like oxygen and angry Republicans, it’s always there.

Well, hair we grow!!

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