Sometimes life sucks and sometimes life really sucks. While down in East Timor, i let my hair grow long again .. or as long as it grows in seven months. Ever since i came back — and it’s 1 1/2 years now — i’ve ben periodically informed that my mop is untidy and needs some rather serious trimming.

It’s not like i’ve purposefully tried to look like a bum. I’ve been to my local hairdresser from time to time and even tried to keep it tidy. A year ago (i’ll find the link tomorrow) i shorted my mane from Hogarth-length to Hogarth minus eight centimetres. And i hated it.

Nor did the periodic information cease.

So today i decide that okay, i’m giving in, anything to keep the lady happy. It’s about time. After all, it was her who’d reserved the appointment and she had even briefed my hairdresser (is that really a word guys use?) that this time we make it short, decent, tidy. Anything but what is now.

I got the pep talk from my wife. I got the pep talk from my hairdresser. Alright. Let’s go for it.

Now i’m wearing something that’s like Jari Litmanen meets Kevin Bacon and i’m hating it. Or let’s just say that i really, really don’t feel at home under it.

When i came home from the hairdresser, my girl came to meet me by the door. What do you think, i inquired. Too short, she said. And she’s four. Then my wife takes a look and says that i’ve become a teenager, that this gives me zero business credibility and does not rock and roll, and that frankly speaking it was better before.

Long pause.

It’ll take a year to get back to how it was, won’t it?

Yes, dear. Or at least seven months.

Fsckn hilarious. I should have gone for the Kekkonen style. Or at least the new Bond or the Good Doctor (Who) anno 2005. Or just have kept going on how it was. You just can’t win sometimes, y’know?

Oh well, it’ll be okay in a year from now…