Daylight Shavings Time

Every year since 1997, I’ve shaved my head over the summer months.

When I first did it, I didn’t expect it to become a habit. I had long hair – mainly a reaction to being required to have short hair throughout school – but it was past its use-by date. I’d kept it tied back for the last few years, and I no longer had much of an emotional attachment to it. I’d sometimes contemplated the idea of shaving my head, and so decided that if I was going to get a real haircut, I might as well get a real haircut. I have a great photo of Deb’s hysterical reaction – laughter/tears/disbelief – when I returned home freshly shorn, in spite of the fact that I’d told her I was doing it.

To my surprise, I loved it. First, my “hair maintenance” overhead almost disappeared. Showers were now finished in two minutes. No time spent on doing my hair. Shaving took a little longer, of course. When it’s hot outside, it’s like having a fridge on your head. When you take your hat off (if you shave your head during an Australian summer, you’ll be wearing a hat), if there’s even a small breeze, the sweat on your head evaporates quickly, cooling it beautifully. Easier to apply sunscreen too – no hairline. You can also stick your head under a tap without needing a towel afterwards. And it almost goes without saying that you will never have a Bad Hair Day.

So now I begin shaving my head when we change over to Daylight Savings Time, and let it grow back when we change back to Standard Time. Winter is cold, so it’s nice to have an organic beanie.

One Response to “Daylight Shavings Time”

  1. Red Zone » Blog Archive » Bold as Brass Says:

    […] I’m an Auskick coach. Today while tying shoelaces for one of my charges (one of the unavoidable tasks when you’re coaching seven-year-olds), he said to me “You’ve got bold hair like my Dad.” I’m thinking “what on earth is he talking about”, so I say “what do you mean”, and he says “you’re going bold, just like my Dad.” At this stage I realise that he’s looking at the top of my head, and I also realise what he’s trying to say. Now, fast forward to the evening where I’m recounting this tale to my lovely wife, Deb. Remember also, constant reader, that every year when I switch back from Daylight Shavings Time to Standard Time, Deb comments that my hair is coming back a bit thinner on top, in all the standard male-patter-baldness places. So I tell her the tale, and of course she laughs and exclaims that she’s been telling me that for years. To which I reply: “So what you’re telling me is that you have all the tact of a seven-year-old?”. […]