Prologue
I’m eight years old and I want my hair cut like Michael J. Fox’s.
“Sorry kid,” the stylist says. “Your hair’s thick and stands on end. Like a pig.”
Logue
I have Pig Hair. Stop snickering; Pig Hair is not a laughing matter. It happens to be a serious follicle affliction that affects over 3.2 million beings, some of which are actually human. For those of you fortunate enough to have been born with “good hair” (definition: when you go for a haircut, the stylist greets you with a friendly smile, instead of mumbling “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this”), I’ll elaborate on this condition.
Derived from the root phrase, Just be glad it’s not a mullet, Pig Hair is categorized as thick, coarse hairs that absolutely refuse to lie flat and instead, dart out from the skull with alarming intensity, thus creating a look that causes unsuspecting folks to assume either:
a) You have hair like a pig.
b) You are a pig.
c) You stuck your finger in an electrical socket.
Right now, you’re probably asking yourself “is Pig Hair really that big a deal?” The answer, of course, is yes, which incidentally is also the answer to an entirely different question, namely “is he really going to write an entire column about this?”
Even though I wasn’t officially diagnosed until age eight, my struggles with Pig Hair started much earlier. It was especially bad during family gatherings. That meant there was a camera involved which meant my parents were on Hair Patrol (Primary Responsibility: prevent my hair from sticking straight up). As Hair Patrollers, they would use any means necessary to keep my hair down — often resorting to, brace yourself, SPITTING. Sure, they could’ve used gel, hairspray, or some other product that wasn’t based in saliva, but no, they went with El Loogie (new from L’Oreal!). Anyway, in all fairness to the Patrollers, the Saliva Effect (new from Tom Clancy!) did make my hair lie flat. For about 90 seconds. Then it was right back to Spit ‘n Smear.
Now because I was the only Bloom with both Pig Hair and a scalp drenched in spit, I grew up feeling alone in my plight. But now, thanks to Google, I’ve discovered that people have actually struggled with Pig Hair for centuries. Long believed to have originated with Cavemen (“me can’t do a thing with hair! GRUNT!”), scientists now believe the roots of Pig Hair (get it?) trace as far back as the Garden of Eden. It’s true, Adam himself was Pig Haired! Finally, something to explain Eve’s frequent “headaches”!
Pig Hair, you see, isn’t exactly an attribute that women tend to look for in a man. It actually ranks fifth on the list of “Least Desirable Qualities”, coming in just below Bad Breath, Foot Odor, Unibrows, and that tendency guys have to quote random movie lines (“I am serious. And stop calling me Shirley.”). But you can’t really blame women for shying away. They’re just playing it safe. Did you know that 56% of Emergency Room patients in the past year were women? Of that, a whopping 37% of visits were due to Pig Hair-related injuries!
DOCTOR 1: Gosh, Bob. Do you think we’ll be able to save the eye?
DOCTOR 2: I don’t know. She got stabbed pretty good.
DOCTOR 1: Damn Pig Hair! If only the ends weren’t so pointy! What a senseless trage—what’s wrong, Bob?
DOCTOR 2: (crying) My wife went the same way!
There are, of course, some Pig Haired women out there, but they don’t suffer the same dating woes as their male counterparts. They simply rely on blow dryers, flatteners, and curling irons to put their hair in its place. Not that it really matters anyway. Fact is, women possess other qualities that discriminating men value much more than hair. You know, personality, sense of humor, a heartbeat.
But going back to the injury tally for a moment, I’ve got another statistic for you. Did you know that 61% of all Pig Hair-related accidents could easily be prevented? It’s true — unlike every statistic in this column. But really, just by taking basic precautions, women can now love Pig Haired men without fear of losing an eye! Take my wife Julie for example. She sleeps soundly every night, knowing her eyes are safe from the dangerously sharp tips of my hair. Does she look silly sleeping with protective goggles? Sure. But brave soul that she is, Julie never complains about my Pig Hair. She’s just glad it’s not a mullet.
© 2006 robbloom.com.
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