הסתפרות בעיר הקודש

Those of you who know me well (and hey, who else is reading this thing?) are well aware that I'm a little protective of my hair. This, of course, is quite ironic, being that the purpose of the Jacob Cytryn hair style is, theoretically, to demonstrate how little I care about the situation in the first place. All of this - and the peculiar state of what gets called "Israeli fashion sensibility" - has made me quite reticent to get my hair cut in this country, much to my wife's chagrin. Today, Tamar made appointments for us to get our hair cut, well within comforting sight lines to סבבה, מרבד הקסמים, and שניצי, on the corner of רחל אמנו and עמק רפאים.

My heart-rate went up as I sat down in the chair, though the three young Arsim-esque guys who manned the store should have put me at ease. Why did my heart rate go up? Not because the guy about to cut my hair had the 'do of Yul Brener in the Ten Commandments with a little Pharaoh beard, but because my lovely, wonderful wife told him that she wanted my hair to look like his. Have no fear, fans of mine, he kindly told her that my hair looks awesome, and he went about giving me a great haircut.

Blogger is not letting me format these pictures in a way that makes sense (i.e., for maximal dramatic impact), and that's way annoying (if anyone has any insight on this, please pass it along).

Above (on the bottom) is a before picture, with me on the beach - this one should be pretty obvious ( and it is almost a full month before - I'll let you extrapolate what I looked like this morning).

Then there's the after (obviously), in my faded staff T-shirt from '05(?) on one of our red couches (no applause necessary).

I liked this guy; I'm going back to him again.

My only remaining fear: will my two best friends, Dov (with the ears - also a good before picture, taken c. 2 weeks pre-trimming) and Micah (with the mini-mouth), still recognize me?