I got my hair chopped on Monday.
As such, I’m in the “transition period” that always seems to follow a new haircut.
You see, my Faithful Readers, I generally let my hair grow and grow and grow for months on end until it’s turned into some sort of weird bowl-cut/mullet hybrid that I lovingly refer to as the bowllet (pronounced: bullet).
When my hair is in the bowllet stage, I generally require a lot of shampoo. Like we’re talking a big ole handful here—and I’ve got really big hands—you see, despite the fact that it’s rapidly thinning, it still takes a lot of shampoo to penetrate the thicket that adorns my scalp.
So when I get it shorn down to its current, Tom Hanks in Philadelphia level, I require a teeny-tiny drop of shampoo.
This transition always seems to take at least a week or so to stick.
During the transition, I find myself pouring enough shampoo for eight of my now-dang-near-bald noggins into my hand and I end up wasting a whole big bunch of it and we’re talking about the gloriousness that is AXE Shampoo, folks…the good stuff!!
The worst-part is that I find myself over-thinking my gratuitous shampoo-usage when finishing up the rest of my morning preparations.
As a result, I use drastically less AXE body-spray—which Grace appreciates—and I use drastically less toothpaste—which Grace does not appreciate—and this is quite frustrating.
I’m wasting shampoo. I don’t have my usual odiferous scent-of-douchebag and my breath smells more like Frosted Mini Wheats and Red Bull than Crest.
History has proven that in time these things will all balance themselves out, and I’ll get back to using too much AXE and just the right amounts of toothpaste and shampoo, but this week I’m one big stinky mess.