I was in the bath, casual thing. On a Sunday night.
I hadn’t washed my hair in a few days, getting a bit long, getting a bit oily.
So I did the deed. Broke out the head and shoulders, gave me Barnet a good scrub. Slicked it down, messed around with a few hairstyles.
And I had this one bit on the corner of my fringe that just wasn’t cooperating. I swept it left, the tuft was still there, I threw it right, it pointed upwards.
It really fucked me off.
So I got out the bath, dried off and I gave the wax a go. Rolled it around in my hands and slicked it over my head, dabbed the tuft and really pushed it down. Now it was just a clumpy tuft standing up.
I got the comb, brushed my head. Kept brushing it.
I was slapping it down, brushing it hard, adding more wax, and really fucking brushing it. My scalp was stinging but that FUCKING patch was still there.
I got that old shitty sharp knit comb out right from the back of the cupboard and dug it deep into my parting.
Fucking blood trickling down my forehead and that thing is still there.
So I take the scissors and cut the fucking thing off.
Get the razor and shave the little fucking stumpy bits.
And I look at myself, with the blood down to my chin now and I think. No. That doesn’t look right.
I look like I’ve got a bald patch at the front of my head now. I look disgusting. I hate it. I hate what it looks like. I hate what I look like. It looks pathetic. I look pathetic.
So I get my beard trimmer out, plug it in and shave it. Shave it all off. All this hair falling into my sink. This curly hair falling in balls, getting on my arms and my chest and making me itchy because it is stuck in my other fucking hair now. My body hair. I follow my hair down my face and cut that all off.
I catch up with the drip of blood on my chest and I shave that off. Fucking stupid place for hair to grow anyway. Arm pits gone. My snail trail, all that fucking hairy area, gone. Legs, eyebrows, arms, arsehole.
I jump back in the bath and I fucking burn. All over. Everything stings and I see blotches appear on parts of my skin that I haven’t seen for years. These red legions growing all over me.
I get out.
I look in the mirror.
And I thought:
I miss that tuft of hair.