Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Hair apparent


Hey everyone. I've gotten a later start here this morning, so hopefully you've been able to patiently wait for this mornings edition of UOPTA. I know that it's like a drug to many of you, and I'm happy to be your pusher.


I've gotta be honest with you - I still have no idea what I'm writing about today. I think this might end up being more of a mishmash of ideas than anything even close to cohesive. I'll let you debate later in the comments section as to whether mishmash, hodgepodge, or potpourri best explains this post.


I'm going to start with something on my list of topics that I turn to when nothing else is kicking around in here, and maybe that'll lead to something else. (If so, this will be the first time in history that "one thing led to another" didn't refer to sex.) As with any other teen, I was one who wanted to be an individual. There were always the cool kids who instinctively knew the upcoming trends and the super nerds who never got those memos. As someone somewhere in the middle, I had to choose what I would adopt very carefully. The truth is, I knew I couldn't pull everything off, so I wasn't going to try it all.


Let's start with earrings. They were very, very cool for guys to have in the late-junior high through high school years. I remember several times seeing one of the cool guys walking in, having people notice his new stud in the left ear, and thinking, "Man, he really is cool." There was no sarcasm there. They were hip, they knew it, and therefore we all knew it too. I could never get an earring. I never even brought it up with my parents, so I don't know what their reaction would've been if I had asked to get one. I knew I couldn't pull it off; I wasn't one of those guys. Some other guys in my level of coolness tried, and the results were as expected. People looked at them, and the thought that was clearly on their mind was, "Really? You thought you could pull that off? No one stopped you? I hope it didn't hurt too much, because it looks stupid on you." I didn't want those looks, so I avoided "accessorizing about my status," if you will.


But being a teen, I still needed to rebel in my own ways. A tattoo has never had any appeal for me. I know plenty of people who have them, and some are pretty cool, but it is soooooo not my thing. I remember a girl in high school getting a rose tattoo with her boyfriend's name on it. "What happens if you break up?" I asked. "The artist said he can put another rose over his name, so I'm not worried." Sure enough, they broke up within a month or two of that conversation.


Another girl in junior high was even less intelligent, and I think you'll agree. She gave herself a homemade tattoo with a heated up paper clip. Already sounds really dumb, right? It was more of a scar than a tattoo, and it said "NKOTB" on her ankle in block letters. Yes, as in "New Kids on the Block." Even as a 12 year old, I asked her what would happen if she stopped liking them or if they (gasp!) broke up. She swore that she would always love them, so she was happy to have that be a permanent part of her. To me, something that permanent at that age seems stupid, almost regardless of what it is. I say 'almost' because I understand someone wanting to honor someone who has passed away in that manner, but it takes that level of permanence to really make sense to this conservative, not-cool-enough guy. That Chinese character you think is so hot now though might not represent your life nearly as much in a few years. That's all I'm saying.


So how did I rebel? With my hair. It was perfect! I could do virtually anything to it and only suffer the consequences for a short amount of time. It started with a trip to London and Paris with a high school class. My friends Jon, Adam, and I all went to a salon and told them to shave it 0ff. It was exhilarating to feel like a rebel, and to know that I would shock people back home. It did, but a lot of people liked it too, so I did it a few more times afterwards.


Later, on a trip to Spain, Dusty and I both dyed our hair. Mine was reddish and his was more purplish, and neither was too obvious indoors. Out in the sun though, I was quite maroon. I had a goatee at the time (another "I'm kinda cool but not trying anything too daring" move), and I had that dyed the same color too. I felt awesome, even if it just looked ok.


By this point, it was almost "my thing" to do something to my hair when I left the country. Naturally, when I went to Mexico with my buddies after my sophomore year of college, there was only one thing left: bleaching. I have dark brown hair, so changing to a bright whitish blond was a huge difference (especially with my dark eyebrows unchanged). I looked so weird to myself, and I shocked a whole bunch of people with that one. I didn't really like it, but after one haircut when it was only bleached on top, it started looking a little better.


Lastly, for years I would do something for special occasions: The fro. I would brush out my hair, and if it hadn't been cut for a while, it got pretty big. By having the fro going on and wearing cool sunglasses, I easily assumed a different character. I would do this in Vegas sometimes, and find myself turning to complete strangers to ask them, "Can you dig it?" Yeah, it was strange, but it allowed me to be temporarily different.


I've stopped all that now. There weren't any repercussions going to school looking different, but being more of a businessman now doesn't jive with that. My plan is to keep my hair as it is as long as it complies and stays on my head. If it backs out of our deal, then I may have to reconsider. It was all great fun though, and I have pictures that allow me to look back fondly on my faux rebellions.


That's it, folks. Looks like I was able to stretch that one topic into a full post after all. How do like them apples? In a pie? Fine, I'll bake you a pie. Now, one final message. I'm pleading with you, gentle readers, I need more ideas. I love the license plate and bumper sticker reports you're sending in for Follow Up Fridays, but why stop there? Email me at ptklein@gmail.com with anything about anything. If you think of something that I might find interesting, send it along. If you hate a particular song or commercial or tv show - that might be just what I need to get something going. One thing led to another...and then I wrote a post. Thank you all - all 8 to 10 of you - and have a fantastic Wednesday.

1 comment:

Paul said...

My only rebellious act came in 10th grade when I called a teacher as Shithead. At that time profanity got you expelled and I had to go to another school for the rest of the semester. When I returned to my original high school the next year I found out that I had a "reputation". I was a "bad boy". Even at my 40th high school reuinion, a person I don't even remember came over to me and recounted the story of my outburst. It's strange what people remember.