This is a story about my hair. There's an interesting twist to the story though....
When I was a kid, I always wanted long hair. Never wanted haircuts. One of my more traumatic memories was of my dad trying to get me into a barber shop, probably for the first time, when I was five. I yelled, I screamed, I cried. I was sure they were going to hurt me. My dad gave up and took me home. He later told me he was very embarassed. (My trauma, his embarassment... even trade.)
I eventually calmed down a little about haircuts but I never liked them much and put them off as long as possible. For several years I got one a year at most. I started growing my beard toward the end of my junior year of high school, and graduated with it, and went to college with it. I got real shaggy in college, and there is one picture out there in the world from those days but I don't have it (damn).
The hair was somewhat short when I started working, but as I realized
I could have long hair and still have a job, I let it grow. In November
1991 I had my last haircut in a shop. By 1993 it made a good ponytail,
and by 1996 it reached its maximum length of about 22 inches.
I even started seeking out other longhairs. I joined a club called Bros, which was mostly a contact club with a zine full of ads and some photos. I even managed to be on the cover of one of the issues, though how the circulation numbers survived THAT hit, I'll never know. For a while I was also on the gay longhair web page and a regular on the #gaylonghair IRC channel.
Oh wait, I don't even want to know... I'm going home.
Or maybe I'll look at some longhair pix first
July 25, 2000
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