I plop a dime-sized spot on my hand and begin to lather up.
That's all I need with the amount of hair I have.
And I have suds to spare.
I'm not the one burning through the hair products in our house.
My barber, Jim, has been cutting my hair for over 30 years. He's seen the follicle debacle in progress,
watching a time-lapse film that's covered decades.
We have a standard banter that's as much a part of the hair-cutting experience as sunrise is to morning.
Jim shows me the finished product, orbiting a mirror around my skull and exposing that great bare spot on the top of my head.
"Doggonit, Jim, why do you keep clear-cutting the middle like that?"
"Dennis, you know I doze off when you start talking.
It's your fault."
Then I climb outta the chair and amble over to the cash register.
"Jim, why is it you charge me full price when there's 75% less hair to cut now?"
Straight-faced and looking bored, Jim answers, much to the delight of the other patrons.
"Finder's fee."
You find out things about yourself you never knew as you get older.
All these years I thought I had these three nice waves in my hair.
Turns out my hair is straight.
My skull is wavy.
So staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I have to smile.
All these years, whether there was short hair, long hair, or no hair, He has kept a roof over this head.
Provided for my needs.
The family's needs.
And it has been fun.
Or like a different Jim I know,
who has the same answer to the same question every time I ask it.
"Hey, Jim - we havin' fun yet?"
"Always, D, always.
It's just that some days are more fun than others."
Puts life in kind of a different light, doesn't it?
Whether I have hair or not.
So comb it if you got it.
Or use the Turtle Wax to get that nice, brilliant shine.
Either way, enjoy your fun, eh?