Hockey hair, aka the mullet.
Even in these days of the manbun, there is still shame attached.
Do I wish back when I had long curls that I’d gone full Jim Morrison instead of Billy Ray Cyrus?
Yes. Yes, I do.
But I didn’t see myself as Billy Ray.
I was Keifer Sutherland in The Lost Boys; only my blond was streaked in.
I was Ziggy Stardust; but my red only came out in the summer sun as my ginger burst through.
I was NOT Joe Dirt.
It was the style of the day.
I enjoyed it when I had it. Hair that is. In general.
But alopecia was winning, so I surrendered.
I pull my razor over my shinny scalp ever morning. Eyes closed I imagine the blades are the teeth on a comb gliding through beautiful thick hair.
Business in the front: party in the back.
Oh, my mullet!
I miss you with regret.
© Colin Frizzell 2017