One man’s journey to short hair

Wildwood Papa hasn’t always had long hair. In fact, he usually has very, very short hair. I love my man with long hair. I love him with a shaved head. I’m sure I’d even love him with a mullet…I just love him, period. He’s a loving soul, full of mischief and fun.
He even lets me post photos like this one on my blog.
Ok, let me just explain. He has about 10 little pony tails all close to his head so that we can either donate it to Locks of Love (if they’ll take it) or sell it. I’ve donated my hair before and it’s a cool thing.
Ah, freedom from hair in the eyes, hair in the nose, hair in the mouth. Freedom from being called a hippie by his closest friends, freedom from his sister calling him Farah.
Call me Farah again, Debbie! Go ahead, I dare you!
Gratuitous sexy muscle man shot.
And finally, my man, happy with his bald head and never having to worry about where his next hair band is.

One thought on “One man’s journey to short hair

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