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It is fair to say that when I was growing up I wasn’t someone who was too concerned with their appearance. This is not due to some deep seated beauty or self-confidence, I just don’t think I found a mirror until I was about 18. That hypothesis is supported by significant photographic evidence from around that time.
My hair was never long though, so I must have gotten haircuts. That is something which must have happened. I am just not sure when or who by, and when I say by whom I mean it very much in a ‘it was Mr. Pink in the conservatory with the garden shears’ kind of way.
I don’t know why it took so long to finally put effort into my appearance. I like to think it is because I had a deep sense of it’s inherent irrelevance to the soul of a person. And that I knew society put so much undue pressure on youngsters to conform to an idea of beauty that is so arbitrary and subjective, I thought I’d be natural. Be myself. A one man protest against the anxiety and low self-esteem inducing beauty industry. Or maybe it was just a naive view that people would like me for me. Bottom line is, my friends were all having sex and I wasn’t.
Let the peacocking begin.
So I took it seriously. I thought the best place to look was fashion magazines, that and pay more attention to cool people on the TV. I looked at what was ‘in’ at the time and as luck would have it, the new style was the ‘just got out of bed’ look. Result. I was into that before it was cool, like any hipster’s favourite band. Unfortunately however, that fashion didn’t last as long as I’d hoped. My brief period of cool was over.
I got my hair cut today, and in the last few years of my life this has always been a risky operation because I’m rarely in a place which speaks English. Although it does give me opportunity to practice my mime game. The way I determine how my mime skills are developing is entirely based on the final cut. After too many failures to mention though I switched tact and now just show a picture.
Today I was not filled with confidence though. After opening the picture on my phone, the hairdresser
studied reviewed absorbed looked glanced at the picture for approximately 0.045 seconds before giving an affirmative ‘ja’*. I just sat back as if I’d just been strapped into my first ever rollercoaster experience. Oh well, here goes.
I think my view on beauty is very much consistent with everyones view on ‘cool’, if you’re trying then you’re instantly not cool. So what I am saying is I was cool for the first 18 years of my life and the cruel shallow society turned me into this uncool guy with a nice hair cut. Thanks Austrian haircutter man.
*he spoke German.