Have you ever wondered what you would look like with long hair? Would you like it? Would people, family and friends treat you differently?
Growing up, I always had short hair, my dad had short hair as did my grandpas. It was a tradition for me and my brothers to go to the local barber with our dad for monthly haircuts, keeping my hair nice and short and never letting it go below my ears.
As we got older, my brothers and I experimented with hairstyles of the time like all kids do. I think we all had a mullet (or as I like to call them, "Kentucky Waterfall"), but it never went below our shoulders. I was pretty conservative with my hair, except the time I had lightning bolts shaved into the side of my head - oh yeah, and the time I tried to get a perm. Unlike my older siblings, I wasn't blessed with any natural curl. As a matter of fact, I wasn't blessed with even a small wave or two. I almost forgot about the college years and when I cut my own hair and tried to bleach it.
Over the years, I've had several friends who had hair down to the middle of their backs and even longer. I was always intrigued but never thought twice about growing mine out
until a little more than three years ago.
To be exact, my last visit to my barber was in March 2008. I decided to do the unthinkable. I was going to see how long I could go without getting a haircut. My first goal was to make it a year.
That first summer was almost unbearable. The heat alone nearly drove me crazy, let alone trying to figure out a way to keep it out of my eyes.
No one seemed to notice at first that my hair was slowly growing longer - only my girlfriend and close friends could tell. But by the holiday season my ears were covered and you could no longer see the back of my neck. On a trip home, my family and childhood friends began to question my new look. My mom didn't seem to mind and dad just shook his head, but my brothers, on the other hand, wanted to strap me down and break out the clippers.
As my hair headed more and more south at the year mark, I noticed people looking at me a little differently. I was use to a little attention, which comes when you carry around huge cameras everywhere you go. Having lived in Lewiston nearly a decade I could walk into most local events with a smile and a nod of the head. It slowly changed with my appearance - a few more questions were asked before I was allowed to enter an event.
As time went on, more and more people would comment how they liked it and wished they had hair like mine. Everywhere I went I would get a reaction, whether it was walking down the street or covering a basketball game. About halfway through my experience the nicknames started rolling in. At first I was just a dirty hippy, then they became more creative, saying I resembled celebrities. Names like Jackson Brown, Silent Bob and Dave Grohl were mentioned. Some even said I looked like Jesus.
Hitting the two-year mark came pretty quick and I thought I was finally going to cut it. I wasn't ready to let go, though. I was kind of attached to it, literally and figuratively.
During my experiment, I've dabbled with my hair, trying to make it stand up in a Mohawk, which failed miserably. I rocked pigtails, braids, buns and many unnameable styles. I found the ponytail was the easiest and most functional way to keep my hair contained for the final year.
I've learned having long hair is not as easy as one would think. Combing your hair every day is a chore, driving with the windows down can be a harrowing experience and sleeping can be painful if you roll over on it in the middle of the night.
It's been a great run, but I think it's finally time to get a haircut. More than 1,200 days passed without a haircut. I would like to thank my wife and family for indulging in my experiment; coworkers for all the great nicknames; and my barber Sally for the new haircut - I'll try not to be a stranger.
In the end, as I prepare to send off my hair to Locks of Love, I hope someone in need will enjoy it as much as I have.
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Mills is a photographer with the Tribune. He may be contacted at kmills@lmtribune.com or (208) 848-2279.
