Hair, here?


In theory, a barber should enjoy job security, as long as everybody doesn’t go bald there will always be hair to cut. But since most people don’t think cutting hair can be especially hard, and because there are lots of people looking for a way to make money, it’s not as easy a life as all that.

Especially when there are people like me, who forget about having either a hair cut or a beard trim for substantial parts of the year, until one day they realize they look like Brian Blessed, if Brian Blessed slept in a hedge on a regular basis.

It wasn’t just that. Felicity has now started grabbing things, and her wondrous dexterity is not an unalloyed blessing, if you have a beard that isn’t tightly aligned to your face. While it’s amusing for her to have this strange, crinkly thing to pull, which provokes interesting noises from nearby, it was only fun for me the first time. Before she started tugging hard.

This evening, after work, and after rushing home to bathe the baby, I walked down to We Need A Hero, a men’s grooming parlour that is part of a chain of businesses that also includes the Tiong Bahru Bakery. Which is very odd, when you think about it. Nobody wants hair in their croissants, after all. I will say no more about exploring brand synergies, thank you very much.

They welcomed me in and gave me a glass of cucumber water. There was a scary moment when it seemed I might get a shave rather than a beard trim, but that crisis was averted. Then again, there’s a full on depilation facility there too, just in case you want a Boyzilian.

Yes, a Boyzilian.

I’ve never been to Brazil, and I don’t really want to have hair yanked unceremoniously from my crotch. It’s bad enough to have my daughter claw at my face, even worse some stranger at my undercarriage.

So instead, I had a hair cut, which from the before and after pictures has changed me from "dangerous" to "morose". I’m quite happy with it, honest, although we have to see if Felicity is ok with her father losing some of his hair.

From his face.

Afterwards, I stopped at the bakery to buy my wife a cake. This is quite idiotic, given how much baking she’s doing right now, but variety is the spice of life. A delicious, spicy cake. Well, a cake, anyway. I was tempted to have something myself, but I’m trying not to eat after it gets dark. This is a difficult thing in a tropical country, unless you like being hungry all night. Then again, gin is not food.

I’m watching my eating habits because I tried wearing my heart rate monitor all day today, and after 13 hours I’d burned 1150 calories. It’s highly unlikely that I burn more calories asleep than awake, so I expect on an average day I’ll use up only 2,000 calories, like a reasonably active average woman, and not the 2,500 every man expects to eat without consequence. Hence I’ll be getting fatter, if I’m not careful. Even if I have lost weight by cutting it off my head.

Tomorrow I’ll try to make a nice annotated graph of today’s heart rate, plotting exciting things like lunch, bathing the baby and sending emails. I wonder if it will reveal anything.


3 responses to “Hair, here?”

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