I shaved my head for the second time since coming to Dalian. Now, that wouldn’t be news anywhere else in the world. If it were a prelude to joining the military or the monastery, maybe, but really, how exciting is a haircut?

Exciting enough that Will, the Canadian teacher here, heard about it in his class, and students were still talking about it (in ways I would hear) a week later. Back in September, a sudden loss of about a pound of curly blond fluff was my first claim to fame in my backwater fishing college.

At one point, three girls from my Oral English class cornered me in the library to tell me, “We’ve decided that we liked your hair before, but this is also very handsome.”

Just for added entertainment, I let my friend Naoko do the trimming. I mean, how bad can you really mess up a shear-job. Let’s just detail the damage in pictures, shall we?

My sister cuts hair for a living. She’s very good at it. If she sees these pictures, I suspect she’ll either be laughing for a week or cursing my perpetual lack of taste and style.

For 20 minutes Naoko hacked at my scalp with the clippers. She pulled at a chunk of hair and swooped the buzzing blade under it. She never stopped laughing.

At the end, I took the clippers back and re-did the whole haircut myself.

Next time, I’ll do the trimming.

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