When you wake up feeling old

(Today's headline courtesy of Wilco.)

You know that scene near the end of Goodfellas when Joe Pesci's character, Tommy DeVito, gets dressed up in his finest suit and tie because he's about to become a made man, and then he walks into the room for the ceremony, but the ceremony never happens because - BANG - Tommy gets shot in the head?

Saturday afternoon I had a similar - if somewhat less bloody - experience. Like Tommy, I never saw it coming.

I'm sitting in a barber's chair at Supercuts, getting the usual SFTC 'do - #3 clippers on the sides and back, scissors on top, sideburns trimmed. Everything's going just fine when my friendly hairstylist casually asks, "Do you use any styling products?"

"Yes," I say. "Pomade."

"Oh. You might want to switch to fiber."

Missing a sterling opportunity to make a joke about already having all the bran I need in my diet, I ask why she thinks I should take such a dramatic step involving my carefully chosen haircare products.

"Your hair is thinning a little on top," she said. "It'll help it look thicker."

[Needle scratches record]

Ouch.

This was especially painful to hear because, throughout my entire haircut-receiving life, I had been told by stylists and barbers that I had such a "thick head of hair." (Which, if you think about it, sounds kind of weird. Maybe it's the "thick head" part.)

I realize they meant it as a compliment, but it was sort of a drag. During my middle school and high school years, I could never wear my hear like the cool kids were wearing theirs. Despite my best efforts, it usually ended up looking... well, a lot like the guy on the right in this picture.

But apparently those days have come to an end. Because now I need to switch to fiber.

Thankfully, I just recently bought two more containers of pomade, which means that my thinning hair will just have to look crappy until approximately the end of the decade.

As I was considering that fact this morning - in what I hope will be my most esoteric thought of the week - I realized that my haircare products have evolved roughly every 10 years. For those of you keeping track (which I figure will be nobody except for Bugs), that evolution has gone something like this:

1980s: Mousse

1990s: Gel

2000s: Pomade

2010s (projected): Fiber

Interesting that the French-sounding products seem to be in vogue every other decade.

Anyway, the whole experience was a huge downer and I was really feeling old. But I had mostly gotten over it by Sunday morning, when I was driving home from the gym. I had the car radio tuned to the oldies station, which usually plays music from before I was born - Beatles, Elvis, The Supremes. But apparently, they've changed that strategy. Because some jackass music director with a twisted sense of humor thought it would be OK for the oldies station to play the vastly unremarkable Naked Eyes song "Promises, Promises." Which was released in 1983, when I was 11.

Thanks, everyone. I think I got the message.