The rise and fall of the hirsute hegemony (3/3)

In this, the last of the three instalments of our trip through my wavy locks of days gone by, acceptance is the byword. 

Thankfully, high school ended on a rather high note.  I had thick brown hair - tastefully combed - and won the MVP award at the culmination of what was our school's inaugural rugby season.  (I didn't score a single point, but man did I play with heart!)  I graduated with honours and even made out with a real live girl before it was all done.  Two of them!  (No, not at the same time.)  The future was my stomping ground and my boots were tied up tight.  Bring it!

Though my hair will not see me to the end of this journey, neither will I allow that to debase me to the point where I attempt to compensate for something that just ain't there.  I have seen many, many comb overs in my years on this planet, and if nothing else I have absorbed one salient point from all my observations: a comb over is NEVER a good idea.

Go Picard or go home.  That's what I say.

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Grade 11.

Trending away from fashion errors of junior high, my only mistake here was showing proof of owning any tie-dyed clothing.  It's not even that it was tie-dyed but more that it was pink.  Also, the photographers did a bang-up retouching job on my zit goatee.  This was the year I had my first job in the A&W kitchen as the fry guy.  For the two months I was employed there I sported the "Trainee" name tag and was so called by the preppy gals next door at the KFC in the mall food court during breaks.  Greasy fry job and adolescence do not a creamy complexion create. 

My eyebrows are coming in nicely though.

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Grade 12.

The only thing I can think of to say is that my wife tells me she would totally have dated me in high school.  I really do appreciate that.

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University.

There is so much I could put in here.  But then I'd have to kill you.

An over-abundance of skipping classes to go for mid-day beer and wings at the pub saw me blossom to what was my peak weight of 240 pounds.  I wore it well enough,  but still...  The hair is just starting to thin in this picture.  (Taken at my fraternity house during an occasion that eludes me currently.)

There was an episode where I actually (accidentally) burned my eyebrows off in a freak engineering sambuca incident.  But that's a tale for another time.  Somebody, somewhere, has a video of it.

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Graduation, 1999.

I always wanted to be an enjunear, and now I are one.

The battle is lost, the troops are in full retreat.  I only bothered with the intentionally mussy hair gel thing up top for a short while before resigning to inevitable defeat.  I sat and succumbed to my own Treaty of Versaille, decommissioned all the armed forces, bade one last farewell, and brought on the clippers.

It's always for the best.

(Um, about the pic.  The photographer still had film left after my shoot, so, on a lark, I grabbed some of the ladies' roses and posed.  This is just one of the proofs I got -- I never actually ordered any of these printed.  So you know.)

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Winter, 2001.

A buddy of mine (the same one who eventually ended up doing our wedding ceremony) convinced me to go on a last-minute trip to the Dominican Republic.  I was single, working with some money to burn, and damned if we didn't have ourselves a wicked-ass time. 

This is me with our favourite bartender from that week.  It was an all-inclusive deal and boy-oh-boy did we take advantage of the free bars!

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Spring, 2002.

Amy and I had just been dating a short while, and this is us.  (I'm not grabbing anything there.  Honest.)  Looking at me now, very little has changed in the past five years.  And everything.

Thank you for coming along with me.  Please return your tray tables and seats to their full upright positions.

FIN

Comments

[wil]

You look a whole lot better now than as a kid, for sure. Too bad about the frostbite of the follicles. We all learn there's a piper to be paid for our foibles in adolescence...

[Alvis]

Sage words on the comb over. I shave my own pate from time to time and the rest of the time I have kept my hair so short that I haven't had to brush or comb it in years.

[Mark]

In Si's case, wil, it's a bagpiper.

Yeah, Simon, with a healthier dose of confidence, a lot of us would have had more dates in high school. Not saying that was your problem, of course, but ending up "just friends" is pretty easy when one never tries.

But, it all worked out great, so no complaints. Plus, we were at lower risk of contracting a disease or knocking somebody up.

I say the kilt was a cover for your true roots, and we should call you Dominican Si from now on.

[Moksha Gren]

That is some purdy hair your senior high school year. Luckily, I never had great hair to begin with, so it hasn't pained me too much to see it go.

When my hair first began its retreat, I made a deal with myself. I could either go out and start my Rogain or I could make a commitment to stay in shape. Bald with a good physique can be sexy (Picard, Willis, etc), but bald and fat is...well...it just doesn't work for me.

And though you distanced yourself from it, I was glad to see some tie-dye show up. My entire high school wardrobe was tie-dye shirts (a few tie-dye pants) and rope sandles.

And finally. Hurray for the buzz cut! Sure, the senior picture hair was swell...but you look great in stubble, sir.

[Mark]

"The Rise and Follicle..."

Sorry. Had to.

[Simon]

wil, I'm fine with paying the price of my hair. It's easier to eschew vanity when some of the options are taken away.

Alvis, and you look fabulous with such good taste in shorn locks. I'm in good company.

Mark, the DR was a great place to visit, but I'll always trace my roots to a more northerly clime. And don't be bothered about your 'Follicle' comment -- cheesy interjections are always welcome here.

Moksha, so now I just have to reassert my own commitment to get back (and stay) in shape. Stubble is definitely the way to go. Sexy AND low maintenance!

[Émilie B]

Dude, I thought you were blond!

[Linda]

Wow, when it went,(the hairline) it went fast, no? Love the DR pic, hotter than a pepper sprout!
Mark, ha!

[Paul]

I saw that grade 12 picture, and my first thought was, "oh, there's a picture of Simon...except someone's drawn hair on his head."

[Dave]

We all age Simon! Some of us grow outwards, some of us lose hair, some of us get grey hair.

It's what makes you, YOU!