Many years ago I gave up the practice of going somewhere to get my hair cut, and instead purchased a Wahl sheep-shearer gizmo with which my lovely wife buzzes the fringe of salt and pepper fur that surounds my pate on in a neat horseshoe. This keeps me looking dangerously hip without looking like a hippy.

Despite the obvious convenience of this arrangement–for me anyway-we sometimes have difficulty finding a convenient time for my lovely to perform the hair reduction procedure. For although the amount of hair that resides on my head, is paltry, the mowing process somehow maximizes the coverage to what seems like a statistically impossible area once it is off my head. In other words, a quick buzz has the potential to spread hairlets all over the place–especially places that have the potential to itch if irritated with little bits of hair.

Therefore, we only attempt the procedure under the strictest conditions: just before a shower and preferably within a day or two of a slated cleansing of the salon (our bathroom). Unfortunately these ideal times are also the times we tend to be very tired, and very rushed.

For some reason I cannot fathom my lovely doesn’t relish the opportunity to place a sharp motorized machine near my head, so sometimes the procedure gets put off until, fearing the predatory paparazzi that constantly trail me, I beg her in the harshest of tones to please give me 10 minutes and do the damn job already. So by the time we finally do it, she may not only be tired and busy, but variously distracted, annoyed, resigned and in a hurry.

On one such perfect occasion, I stood hunched , naked, and freezing in the dim light of the tile room, awaiting the 5 minute ordeal of having my head wrenched around and being occasionally poked and praying that my ears would remain intact. She switched on the Wahl and started in at the back of my head, just to the right of my left ear. She took one deft 3″ stroke and screamed. Seems she had forgotten to put on the 1/4 guard (the one that gives me the so popular velvety putting green feel ) and had shaved a 3 x 1-1/2″ swath up the back of my head.

I couldn’t see this in the mirror, no matter which way I turned or how I contorted my head, neck, and eyes. Then everyone else in the house quickly hid all the hand mirrors while we contemplated what to do. We considered a full cranial shave, but opted out because much as my lovely loves to attend to my ravishing dome, she strongly believes its aesthetic quality would be irredeemably compromised were it left fringeless.
So there wasn’t much to do but leave it be and trim around it daily until it faded. So for about 3 days I had a big stripe on the back of my head that I couldn’t see. I was pretty certain though that everyone else with eyes could see it, and would notice it. Yet when I went to work–a school of only 100 kids and 30 staff, all known personally to me–not a soul mentioned it. Not even the 15 or 20 Aspberger types. They had to see it, right?
So, on day 2, lacking much tact or restraint of my own, I started asking others whether they had noticed it. Of course they had, but were too embarrassed or too polite to say anything. They had speculated–minor surgery, a aborted plan to shave my head, a fashion statement, a weird grown-up thing…When I told them the truth we shared a laugh.

So my conclusions:
Don’t overestimate people’s obliviousness.
Don’t underestimate people’s sense of decorum and respect.