Toupee, eh?

Once upon a time (yesterday afternoon, actually), my hair was long. Not girl-long, or mullet-long, but longer than I would like. (Personally, I’d like to be bald, but by “longer than I would like” I actually mean that the curls were out of control — I have naturally curly hair when it gets long — and were starting rebellions and coups and buying tickets for Greece.)

In the dungeons of the Wilkinson Center there happened to dwell a barber. In this once-upon-a-time world, I went to the barber and asked him to cut my hair. “How long?” quoth he.

“Well, how much is on there?” I asked.

“Three inches.”

I pondered. “Leave an inch and a half.”

Ten minutes later, as he brushed off the razor with one hand, he spun me around in the chair with the other (this was after that glorious head-vacuuming experience) and I inwardly gasped in horror as my nearly-shaven head stared back at me. The guy must’ve grown up in Canada, because he left one and a half centimeters. I don’t know how familiar you are with the metric system, but that’s two and a half times as short as I requested. And that’s a lot. Or a little, rather.

Anyway, even as I type this, I’m aghast at how vain I am. I really need to just go bald and get it over with. Maybe that’ll cure my vanity. Or maybe I’ll have a misshapen skull — like an egg that got rejected at the factory — and become even more vain. Combover, anyone? ~shiver~

In other news, I was on a date tonight at Los Hermanos with a few married couples when one of the women turned to me and my date and said, “So, how long have you two been married?”

:)

AWWWWWW! How cute! And I’m sure your haircut isn’t as bad as you think. And hair grows super fast anyway…in a week it’ll be to where you wanted it in the first place. :)

Ben,

LOL. I’m a beautician; I taught all of my children to cut hair - on me. The first time Heather cut my hair I went to work and my boss said, “I see you got your hair cut… A boy’s summer haircut!” Have I ever mentioned that I collect hats?

It will grow back at an average rate of 1/2 ” per month. In the meantime, there are remedies for baldness. You can buy fuzzy spray paint especially made for bald men. Then there is the comb over or the toupee - not recommended. You can shave it and say that you have a part in the “The King and I.” Or, I have a hot pink cowboy hat that you could borrow. What ever you choose enjoy it. Both my sons buzz their heads and the women love it. They are 33, and 35. Maybe it will be your lucky month.

Seriously, I bet it looks great.

Oh, Ben. I expected something awful after reading this. Your hair looks just fine.

Mali-Wan: Luckily my date and I were old friends, so it was hilarious rather than embarrassing. And I’m glad hair grows super fast. Artists generally have either really, really short hair (ala Steve Jobs) or rather long hair (ala Beethoven). Got to preserve the image, you know. ;)

J: LOL, only 1/2″ per month? That means another two months before I’m back to where I wanted to be. ~sigh~ Maybe I should check my spam folder to see if there are any deals on Rogaine these days… :P

Katherine: Well, thanks. I guess it could be worse. How, I don’t quite know, but I’m sure it could be. :)

Surely you hair doesn’t look that bad Ben. At least not bad enough to embrace premature baldness that is. As they have said “it does grow out.” I too was not exactly happy with my last hair cut. It has just grown out enough for me to re-cut it. I think that I shall do so when I get back in town.

As for being mistaken for as a married person…Well, I have been mistaken as a mom many a time when out with younger siblings, I don’t think it would be too bad to be mistaken as a wife ;-)

Hey, having hair like Steve Jobs is probably a good thing. Just don’t start limiting your wardrobe to black turtle necks and jeans otherwise I might really start to worry about you. ;)

I’ve been re-reading Harry Potter lately, and I think I’m going to start going by the nickname Nearly Bald Ben. :P

Once I was out with my mom and someone thought she was my wife.

No worries, I can’t stand turtlenecks. And I’ve yet to find a pair of jeans that I like (i.e., that fits me). Not that I’ve really tried, but…

Random news: Last night around 2 or 3 a.m., I have a memory of climbing into a bed (thinking it was mine), reaching out for my glasses, and feeling a squarish cell phone instead. I realized in a moment of horror that everything was on the wrong side of the room, and just then I heard some sounds from the bathroom. Luckily I leapt over into my own bed before my roommate came back into the room.

I’m not sure if that’s apocryphal or not, since it may have just been part of a dream, but usually my dreams don’t take place in my bedroom; if the location is here, then it almost always means my eyes are half open. In fact, it’s regular for me to look at the pictures and posters on my wall and, in the twilight of two o’clock, have my mind reconfigure them into something else entirely, placing me in some distant setting. Very trippy.

Speaking of which, I used to sleepwalk all the time. And sleeptalk. But those are stories for another time.

Dear Nearly Bald Ben,

LOL. Ben I never knew guys were so vain. You should start a photo collection of Ben combovers where you stand in front of a girl with long hair and comb her hair over your bald head. Blonde Ben, Brunette Ben, Redhead Ben… it could be a ward activity.

My sister delivered twins early while on a trip to San Francisco. The hospital staff thought that her nearly bald husband was her father and wouldn’t let her husband in the delivery room because of it. Strange how the lack of hair causes hair raising experiences isn’t it?

Not to worry though. I know lots of women whose favorite guys are bald. Take Heather for instance, two of her favorite guys are bald. I could leave this comment at that, or perhaps I should tease you more and add that the guys are her grandpa, a dear 80 year old home teacher we had for several years.

Seriously though, I dated an awesome guy who was nearly bald by the time he was 27. His lack of hair really bothered him. I never really noticed it. I noticed his personality and his spirit. I considered his association a gift from God and he did wonders to heal my spirit. He had a favorite scripture something about how not one hair on your head will be missing in the resurrection. Sorry I don’t have the source.

Anyway, I think that you should be more concerned about what kind of mushrooms you had for dinner than your hair cut. Trippy eh?

And Ben, you must have a very young mother.

Alas, yes, some guys are mirror-worship vain. Luckily I’m not that vain, but my artist’s aesthetic sense does come into play. :) And in all honesty, most of the time I completely forget about my haircut — about the only time I remember is when I look in the mirror. Or people say, “Nice haircut.” :)

It’s been a while since people mistook my mother for my wife, but she’s still fairly young as they go. (And I don’t think I’m allowed to reveal her age on here. ;))

Ben,
I just love your mother. The last time I saw her a few months ago, I was taken not just with her beauty, but her excitement for life. I can see how she is often mistaken for being much younger. After all she still have the energy of a 5 year old ;-)

Oh, and if people are saying “nice haircut” sincerely then your hair probably doesn’t look that bad (even if it is not what you want…LOL

Soon, you will be carrying a walking cane. I know you like the members of the Quorum of the Twelve, but did you really have to concoct a story about a confused barber to justify getting your haircut like Elder Oaks? Then again, maybe you thought if you looked like him you would have his luck at getting married. All jokes aside, I can save the clippings from the haircut I just gave my mom and send them to you. Sure your wig would be grey, but you would have hair☺ I am always shocked when I get a haircut, but just because it looks different from what you are use to does not mean it looks horrible. If all else fails, I can send you some pictures of statues and paintings in the British Museum. After a comparative study I am sure your confidence level will increase.

LOL: So that’s why she gave me a boy’s summer hair cut this morning when I only asked for a trim.

Okay, Ben, where are the illustrative photos for this post?

“Speaking of which, I used to sleepwalk all the time. And sleeptalk. But those are stories for another time.”

No, no, I think now is definitely the time for those stories.

I agree with katherine ;-)

Julia: LOL, she’s great indeed. And thanks.

Heather: I so want a cane! And hey, I stopped wearing white shirts and ties every day back three years ago. But I do have to admit, bald doesn’t look that bad. Don’t worry, I’ll let you donate your mom’s clippings to Locks of Love. Taping on someone else’s hair is just…um…I don’t think I even need to fill in a predicate adjective here. :)

Katherine: Um… My camera is…broken? Rats. No, really, I’m in the process of uploading a video (I’ll blog about it when it’s done), so instead of mere photos you can get full-color video. ~shudder~ :)

As for the stories, well, let’s see. We’ll start with one: I was up in Chiang Mai in northern Thailand for a zone conference. The night before the conference, we visiting elders crashed in the air room of the elders who lived next to the church. There were around ten of us in the room, two on each bunk bed and elders everywhere else on the floor. I was on the ground between one bunk bed and the wall. Well, during the night I dreamt I was crawling underneath a log, and I finally came out and sat down on it, looking at a puddle in front of me. I kept thinking to myself, “I can’t go outside — I don’t have a companion!” So I sat there. And sat there. And sat there. After what must have been ten minutes, my eyes started to adjust to the light, and I looked up and saw a window. Just then I realized where I was. I also realized with horror that I’d scuttled all the way under the bunkbed in my sleep and had ended up on the other side, which meant I was sitting on the bed next to some elder (thank heavens he didn’t wake up!) and the “puddle” in front of me was another elder. I quickly relocated myself back to my sleeping pad and blanket. Sleepwalking is like a walking disaster of embarrassment waiting to explode. ~sigh~