I find myself in a bad situation these days. I should know better by now because I always make this mistake.

I have let my hair grow too much.

I have this love-hate relationship with my hair. Part of me really likes when I let it grow for a while, but the whole thing becomes such a hassle.

You see, I have curly hair. Some people – mostly women – will compliment me on my nice curly hair. That’s easy for them to say because they aren’t the ones who have to try and make it look presentable on a windy day like we had on Thursday,

I know I shouldn’t complain because I don’t have to deal with half the stuff women have to when the wind messes up their hair, but it still bugs me. I have a hard enough time finding the part when it’s nice out much less when the wind is blowing trash, cardboard boxes and small children all over the place.

I should just suck it up because I have dealt with this problem for 40 years now and should have known to get a hair cut a few weeks ago.

I guess part of me thinks that, just one time, my hair will grow the way I wanted it to when I was a teenager. For some reason, I wanted to have long hair.

I don’t really know why. Looking back, I would have been a horrible candidate for a mullet or a ponytail, but I guess 80s Brian didn’t think of things that way. All he wanted was hair down to his shoulders instead of those goofy curls on his neck or peeking out from over his ears.

For ages, I would disagree whenever people told me I had long air. It doesn’t get long, it just gets bushy. And bothersome.

Nowadays, I don’t want my hair to get long like I did back then. I just want it to be manageable when I do wait too long to go to the barber. Because I always wait too long. Always.

I could probably make this a little easier on myself by doing something to try and manage my hair, but that would take too much effort. I pride myself in putting as little time as possible into my hair.

That’s why when I do finally get the time for a hair cut, I will go to the other extreme. I don’t quite go for a buzz cut – although I have come close a few times – but I make sure I get my money’s worth.

Plus, I do nothing to style my hair. I can even get away without really combing it for a few weeks after I get a trim. That’s the life.

Unfortunately, I pay for that at times like this when I look like a guy trying to do a bad impression of a Beatles haircut. The only problem is, no one is mistaking me for Paul McCartney. I couldn’t even pass for Ringo.

And I have no one to blame but myself.