The military haircut just may be my arch nemesis. While there are things that bother me more about being an Army wife — let’s not forget deployments and three-hour waits in a primary-care manager’s office — the topic you’ll find me grumbling about most often is my husband’s hair.
At our wedding nearly three years ago, Josh had soft, curly hair that probably was at least 4 inches long. At that time, he also sported a goatee tinted more red than the blonde hair on his head
Now, each Sunday night, I’m forced to hear the whir of the clippers as I cut his hair into that typical Army-approved style. It’s hard to express how this pains me.
Just Friday, as we gave my visiting grandma a tour of downtown Savannah, Josh was stopped by a man and thanked for his service. He was in a T-shirt and jeans, but the haircut gave him away. Of course, I love that people recognize my husband for the service he’s doing for our country, but there’s something about that haircut that seems to steal away my Josh and replace him with the G.I. Joe version.
Uniformity is, I know, an important part of the military and its success. As someone who places the safety and effectiveness of our troops at a pretty high priority, I’ve come to respect many of the rules and traditions that go along with making the commitment to join. If rules are set and enforced, I’ll deal.
But when it comes to consistency, hair length and style enforcement comes up empty-handed. If rules were firmly set for acceptable hair length, maybe my husband would not be forced to go to the barber three times in one week because his hair is deemed unacceptable by different non-commissioned officers who all have different opinions on what is and is not OK.
If the military insists on taking his hair, at least they could make the rules easier to follow. In the meantime, I’ll keep clenching my teeth during Sunday-night haircuts and reminiscing about the great hair he once had.