Vanity vs. comfort: A new look for a big head

With summer time fast approaching, I felt it was time to embrace my summer ‘do and shave my head. I wasn’t allowed to shave my head last summer because The Wife wanted to make sure I had hair for our wedding (which is kinda silly because it takes me about three weeks to grow a full head of hair). I like to buzz my hair short for the summer because it gets ungodly hot. Plus, sometimes I just get sick of hair. All the washing and conditioning. Spending two or three minutes every morning styling it. Not being able to wear a hat because I’ll mess it up. Just between you, me, and the World Wide Web I’d much rather sport a maintenance-free shaved head than look good with my dark, curly locks.

I have always put comfort over appearance (a trait that’s obvious to anyone who has ever seen my wardrobe). Funny thing about personal appearance, you rarely get to look at it. Sure, there are those few minutes in front of the mirror in the morning or perhaps if someone snaps a photo. But for the most part, you never look at yourself. Suppose I buy a new outfit that looks really good on me. I can’t get pleasure in seeing myself in it because the cashier at McDonald’s gets to spend more time looking at me than I do…which is exactly why I put comfort over appearance. Why do I wanna look good for someone else?

I told The Wife I planned on buzzing my hair and she quickly opposed the idea. This year she didn’t have the wedding to fall back on and had to come up with a new excuse: “You look terrible with your hair short.”

She said when I wear my hair short it makes my freakishly large head look freakishly larger. While she didn’t use to word ‘basketball’ specifically, The Wife implied my shaved head resembled a spherically surface with a perfectly proportional circumference (she made no mention of its gravitational pull).

“I don’t care what I look like–it’s more comfortable,” I argued.

“Yeah, but I’m the one who has to look at you.”

She had a valid point. While I don’t care if I’m pleasant on the eyes, it’s because I spend very little time looking at myself. My wife on the other hand, is forced to spend hours looking at my mug on a daily basis. She is certainly entitled to see something pleasant. After all, she is the one who has to look at me. Parents, friends, cashiers–they can all avert their eyes when Basketball Head talks to them; The Wife has no choice. Part of our martial vows incorporated “quality time” together–including conversing. It’s hard to talk to something you find completely hideous.

I had a difficult decision to make: my own personally comfort or The Wife’s happiness? After much debate, I turned to–of all people–the Fem-Nazis for guidance. What’s the rally cry of pro-choice nutso? It’s my body and my choice. Even though The Wife has control over pretty much every facet of my life (which is her right as the breadwinner of our house), for my body I had to do what was right for me. I wanted to feel cooler, more comfortable, and eliminate the hassles of gorgeous hair. So while she was at work earning our rent money, I shaved my head in the bathroom and repeated another piece of advice I heard elsewhere…

It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.