Things are calming down. A little.
One daughter is moved and adjusting to her new job. The other is working and taking care of an injured husband and a fussy toddler. Stud muffin is counting down his days to retirement while measuring how long his hair is.
Yep, he’s letting it grow. After 29 and a half years of having to be clean shaven with short hair and adhering to grooming standards, he’s already starting to let his hair grow. He’s (sort of) keeping it off his collar, but he hasn’t cut the rest of it for a couple of months now. He’s looking pretty scraggly. Almost unkempt. In a way that’s new for him.
He’s gotten a few comments at work, but his attitude is, What are they gonna do? Fire me? He’s gotten some double takes and askance looks at church and out shopping. His daughters hate it and never fail to let him know their feelings.
Several friends and family members think he’s crazy. And they think I’m even crazier for “letting” him do it.
I have mixed emotions. I’m not crazy about the longer locks. But I do recognize his need to rebel a little now. He’s worked hard for 35 years to provide for me and his family. If he wants to quit getting haircuts, I think it’s his business. I don’t want him telling me how to color or cut my hair. I’m not about to dictate his choices in the same matters.
Now, when we get to what he wears, that’s a whole different matter. He tells people that I dress him, so my reputation is on the line when he goes out in scruffy sweats. I scolded him recently for wearing a shirt out to lunch and shopping that had been relegated to the Not in Public section of his closet. It’s stained. The collar is fraying.
He crossed a line and must be stopped. If the shirt makes one more public appearance, it’ll be placed in the dumpster.
He can wear his hair how he likes but I do have some standards.