Matthew Burnette, Staff Writer

“Wow you’ve got a lot of hair!”

“And I grew it all myself too!”

There’s rarely been a time when I’ve sat down for a haircut where some form of that interaction hasn’t taken place.

The joke has landed more than it failed, but I guess you do have to factor in the tipping situation that undoubtedly skews its success more in my favor.

Somehow, through a genetic anomaly, I’ve been blessed with an incredibly thick head of hair. A lot of the males in my family seem to have foreheads that grow larger as each year passes, yet my locks seem to be holding their own.

Every now and then as I run my fingers through my hair to get it out of my face, I’ll catch a glimpse of a few that seem to be turning white, but so far (as I knock on the wood of my desk for safe measure) my head of hair seems to be as full as it ever has been.

If it seems like I’m being boastful about my follicle fortune, that’s not my intention, but it has come in handy.

Thicker hair more easily hides an ear-to-ear scar and a general lumpiness on my head from an intensive surgery when I was an infant. It also serves a great conversation starter when I do finally decide to get it cut.

There’s also a couple of drawbacks as well. It always seems to be getting caught in either my glasses or the back of my hat, and apparently thick hair on the top of your head also means thick hair at the bottom of your neck.

Imagine the slight fear and surprise I felt the first time I saw the barber going towards the back of my neck with a straight razor like a scene out of a Rudyard Kipling novel.

I tend to go to one of the several chain establishments when my hair grows to the point that I get tired of messing with it or when more than enough people have come up to me and asked, “When are you getting a haircut?”

Whichever one comes first.

There’s a part of me that always considers finding a local barber that I could build a friendly report with. The type of “Andy Griffith-Floyd the Barber” relationship that seems to be going by the wayside.

It would be nice not to have to explain what I want done every time and hope that they understand what I’m saying. I can also see the benefits of visiting a familiar face instead of awkwardly trying to make small talk with a stranger to make the time move a little faster.

Whenever I do visit the aforementioned chain establishments, I don’t typically make an appointment. I go and give my name and then wait for whichever person is available next. A lot of people select a specific person, but a part of me likes the gamble involved when selecting the “next available” option.

Will it be a nice friendly stylist that tries to foster a pleasant experience for the duration of the haircut, or will it be the one who sounds like they ate unfiltered cigarettes for breakfast, coughs directly in your face without a care and acts like the last thing they want to be doing is cutting hair?

You never know!

Despite the obvious benefits of a steady and regular barber, I don’t know if that’s ever going to be a change I end up making.

When it comes down to it, I don’t worry that much about my hair.

Sure, you’re probably wondering to yourself, “Hmm… Seems kind of weird he’d ramble for this allotted time about his hair if he doesn’t worry about it,” but it’s true.

If the barber does something wrong, as long as it’s not terribly egregious, I’m not going to ask them to fix it. I use an off-brand 2-in-1 shampoo conditioner combo, regardless of the fact that every person that’s ever cut my hair has cautioned me on how bad that is for it, and I probably don’t brush or comb it nearly as thoroughly as I should.

At the end of the day, I can only hope that, while it’s arguably my best physical feature, though that distinction carries about as much weight as being the smartest person on MTV’s Jersey Shore, it’s just that: a physical feature.

It’s kind of like the front lawn of a house.

You may be more likely to go and knock on the door of a house that has a well-manicured lawn, but you can’t assume that the guy whose grass is a little longer is any less worthy to talk to.

Maybe he’s got more worthwhile things to do than mowing his grass. Is a longer yard more susceptible to housing critters like snakes and rabbits? Of course…

I’m afraid I may have lost the metaphor, and my train of thought along with it…

Hair is great and all, and a lot of people take a lot of pride in it, as well they should.

But a person’s hair shouldn’t be a barrier to polite conversation or consideration.

There’s more to talk about than what grows out of our heads.