Shampoo is for Sissies

Ayuthaya, Thailand. At first glance, one may not realize that I have thick, luscious locks of curly hair. If it weren't for a relatively tight crop and the wonder of modern-day hair jellies, what with their industrial holding powers, smooth finish and delightful aromas, I would not be the dashing, slick-backed young man I am today.

Wait a minute? Why would I do this to my hand? Hmmm.

Unfortunately, getting a decent hair-care product in rural Thailand was proving to be difficult, at least one that didn't make me smell like a salted cod. The hot and heavy humidity out here had curled my hair fierce and angry, like a persian cat in heat.  So I did what any self-respecting traveler who has been hanging around monks for a while would do--I lopped it off. It's amazing how something that takes months and months to grow can be removed in less than six seconds.

Better question: why would I do this to my head?

It's about 20 degrees cooler now, and I have a big enough pile of hair to send to one lucky, old-school German grandmother. My new, sleek design was going to come in handy though. I could tell. It must be time to roll. I can feel it in the air, over the globe of my hull-free coconut.  

Oh my. What have I done?