A friend wrote to me recently and commented on a Facebook posting I made on Ray’s birthday which included the following sentence: Love of family, dogs, and a headful of hair are key components to your happiness as you navigate through life with eyes wide open. That friend said that she was surprised that I would include a “headful of hair” in my description of Ray’s happiness since it seemed out of character for me. She said that she’s never thought of physical appearance as that important and that her husband is completely bald and they are “happier than ever.” I feel compelled to address this since what my friend might not realize is that Ray’s hair (or rather its length) has been an ongoing joke in our family for a very long time and that was what I was alluding to.

A bit of history:

Ray with hair that I think is adorable

Ray with hair that is still okay but getting a bit long.

Ray with hair that has moved into marginal.

Rays’ hair growing longer and bigger.

Since we’ve been married, getting Ray to get a haircut has been an ongoing challenge. (Apparently, a few bad early childhood experiences in the barber’s chair have made him almost barber-phobic.) Consequently, even with much urging, he might get a haircut once or twice a year. That might be fine for some people but Ray has what hairstylists like to refer to as “magnificent” hair, which grows at an extraordinary rate. So, once his hair moves from cute to longer, then I begin mentioning a haircut because it will be another two to three months before he will actually get so much grief from his daughters for looking increasingly more homeless that he’ll break down and go to the barber shop.

Whatever the case, this has nothing to do with whether someone is attractive with or without hair. I find bald heads as attractive as ones with hair. This is my husband’s penchant for too much hair. And it doesn’t help that every man who is starting to lose even a little of his own hair encourages Ray to keep growing his longer and longer. And just to put an even finer point on it, it’s not that I have anything against long hair. I love long hair on men (I’m pretty open to the whole range of no-hair to hair-to-your-waist for men), but Ray’s hair doesn’t just get longer, but also bigger. Before it’s over, the front door is not quite wide and tall enough for him to enter.

And lest you worry that all this talk makes Ray feel bad, please don’t be concerned. He knows as well as anyone just how big his hair gets the longer it grows. He’d just rather have people cross the street once his hair is out of control than to go and get it cut.

I love my husband with his hair and would love him just as much if he didn’t have one strand. I even love him when he walks around looking like Grizzly Adams. So, my comment to him on his birthday about his “headful of hair” was meant only to tease him and he indeed laughed when he read it.

He allowed our daughter Liz to cut his hair twice over this past year and seemed very happy both times. However, Liz has let him know that she’s ready to relinquish her hairstylist’s duties now that he’s immunized. In fact, just last week she said, “Okay, Dad, it’s time for another haircut. Maybe next week, you can go.”

We’ll see just how long it is before Ray heads over to that barber shop.