“Duh, Losing” — Of Weight Loss And Haircuts

So after the last weigh-in for the weight-loss contest we’re doing at work, I stalled.

For like a week, I was plateaued in this three-pound-or-so range, and couldn’t break out of it.

It was frustrating.

And then, finally, progress!

Big losses (more than a pound) two days in a row!

Like, three pounds in a two-day period!


But —

On the second day, I’d gotten my haircut.

I mean, like, a serious haircut. Probably the most substantial haircut I’d ever had.

david hitt, haircut

And it occurred to me —

What if that day’s weight loss was really just the haircut?

Could I have had a pound of hair cut from my head?

Heather and I debated it. She pointed out that her pony tail couldn’t weigh a pound. I replied that her pony tail was less hair that I’d had cut. She said that it wasn’t, that her pony tail was most of the hair on her head. I disagreed. Sigh.

But —

Then I realized, that if there’s one thing I’ve learned from romantic comedies in the mid-90s, it’s that the human head weighs eight pounds. (If there’s another, it’s that you should show me the money.)

And there’s no way the hair I had cut off was an eighth of the mass of my head.

So I must be losing weight.


(I’m still not above the idea of getting another drastic haircut before the last weigh-in, though.)

View My Worst-Ever Haircut and Mull It

From a Plinky prompt: Show a picture of your worst-ever haircut.

david hitt high school photo mullet

My high school senior yearbook portrait

It wasn’t intentional, I promise.

To be sure, I went through a series of bad hair styles in late high school and through college, and, to a lesser extent, thereafter. Somewhere, there are probably worse pictures of the style in this picture, but it was the worst one I had handy.

In my defense, for what little defense it provides, I didn’t realize I was rocking a mullet.

I blame Jeremy Wells. Jeremy, you see, was my high school newspaper editor my sophomore year, and he was, to my young mind, awesome. He excelled at everything I wanted to excel at and more. And while he was a good writer, his main strength as editor was his design and graphics ability, proving that you could become a school newspaper editor on the skills I had instead of the skills I didn’t.

I wanted to be Jeremy Wells.

And that imitation extended to hair. I wanted long hair like Jeremy’s. So I decided to start growing it out.

Now, I did not want a mullet. To be honest, at that point, I didn’t even know what a mullet was. In fact, it wasn’t until probably a decade after high school that I really realized that I’d had one.

What did I want? Awesome long hair. Like hippie or rock star hair, but clean cut and respectable. That’s totally better than a mullet. Look, I was in high school, whadda you want? Shut up.

What I got was a mullet. That I kept for way too long.

And the irony was this. I was telling this story to someone recently, how I didn’t know I had a mullet and that’s not what I was aiming for, I just wanted awesome long hair like Jeremy’s. I pulled out the yearbook to show his picture to explain what I’d actually wanted.

And in that picture, looking at it again for the first time in almost 20 years, it turns out Jeremy Wells was totally rocking a mullet.


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