So I'm growing my hair out.
My daughter says I'm trying to be like Joe Jonas of the famous boy band, "The Jonas Brothers". She's dead wrong. I'm trying to be like Troy from High School Musical 3 . . . a world of difference to anyone who is a connoisseur of Disney fodder.
I haven't had a different style for nearly 12 years--since my Senior year in college when I sported the antiquated "ledge cut". I've pretty much had the same "pineapple" look since then. You know, where it's short and in the front you have this puffy little tuft of hair spiked out all random and such. But the time had come for a change.
My wife had been dropping hints over the last year or two that I should try something different. I could tell her attraction to me had plummeted after our 10th anniversary and that what worked for the first 10 years wasn't going to carry me through the next decade. I finally took the red pill and freed myself from the 90's Matrix. I've been born again (in a follicle kind of way).
The hardest thing is working through the greasy, gritty Jr. High transition from short hair to long. I've spent weeks covering myself with a tarp (hat) in order to not scare off the normal people that are forced to interact with me on a regular basis. There were even two weeks that I spoke in church with a hat to avoid a sudden drop in attendance due to the eye-soar-pastor syndrome. It's been quite a journey thus far, and I'm not even close to the finish line.
I'm still wearing a hat about every other day. It reminds me of the days when I had braces and I wouldn't smile real big because of my insecurity. I would just sort of smirk like I was doing something naughty. Most of pictures from my braces epoch showcase a sheepish Jason not wanting to be exposed as a tinsel-teeth fairy in his formative college years. (that's right, I had braces in college and Heidi still dated me). This hair thing is akin to this "braces" wound I sustained from 1993-1996. haha.
So I'm calling on everyone with ears to hear to lift up holy hands and engage in hardcore intercession for this hairy issue I'm having. I'm trying to stay strong, but like a dog returns to its vomit, I wrestle with urges several times a day to hit the Great Clips Saloon and relapse into what is, to me, my default cut...high and tight with a little tuft of follicle love left in the front for the "hey, I'm-not-in-the-military" non-verbal.
I covet your prayers, my blog friends.