It's summer, the hair had to go.
When I was a kid, I got to stay with my maternal grandparents int he West Oak Lane section of Philly. My grandmother was strict, but had a much nicer house than mine and was a great cook. The only problem was that she always insisted on taking me to Mr. Lee's Barbershop. I dreaded the trip there, but had no choice and knew better than to protest.
Once in the barber's chair, my stomach would always churn when I heard this brief conversation:
Mr. Lee: "So, what are we having today, the 'skinner'?"
Grandmother: "Yep, take it all off"
The problem with this was that she'd have me get my hair cut just before I left, mere days before school started. In grade school, kids who returned after summer break with a freshly shorn heads (like yours truly) were the targets of much head-slapping when the teacher's back was turned. I got into a few fights because of that.
As an adult, I can't wait to get into the barber's chair when summer hits.
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