Hair can be such a weight. It's been four months since I had it shaved to that German army buzz-cut, a stern block of tuft sitting on top of an otherwise fully-cropped head. It grew out nicely, but over the last month it became a burden, a mess of lengths and bushiness that needed taking in hand.
Thursday nights are dangerous for those who live alone: third night at home in a row, nothing to do, the thought struck. Let's self-clip! I'd been given a home grooming kit for Christmas that had remained in its packaging. Assembled, it started buzzing as soon as I flicked it on. Newspaper on bathroom floor, 5mm head on the clipper, I first mowed the right side. Large clumps fell, but soon the noise was faltering to a low burr. The battery was dry. I was 35% shorn.
Many moons ago, I'd have attempted it as a finished look, but nowadays, quirks don't work. Never mind. No one was coming round, so I avoided mirrors, put the clippers on to recharge, and went to bed. Early next morning, the assault began again. Things were going OK, except the top of my head, which was proving resistant to the chop. Then I remembered: at the barber, they wash your hair first. A day's worth of product build-up down the drain, the clipper was then gliding. Finishing touch, take off 5mm head to completely shave away the back-of-neck fuzz. A clean, even, pleasing cut.
A few minutes later, I went back to look for stray ends. They were there, just behind my right ear. At them I went. Strange, a lot of hair seemed to be falling off. Then it dawned. I'd not put back the 5mm head. I was shaving down to flesh. I'd made a massive area of unintentional baldness. Panic attempts symmetry. The same around-ear shaved patch was put on the left side. Except that patch looked too conscious, And it's a working day. Will anyone notice?
· Charlie Porter is associate editor of GQ (m-f-a-s@hotmail.com)
