Tuesday, 04 September 2012
BALD HEADS AND BABY BUTTS....BEAUTIFUL!
I started to go bald in my mid thirties. Hair transplant doctors say that when you notice your hair getting thin….you’ve already lost 50% of it! Into my forties I no longer had a hair style, just combed back and done. By my fifties I no longer owned a comb. There was no horror in going bald. I never observed my tresses slowly cascading off my shoulders in hand full’s, because they went one hair at a time, around the clock, 24/7. This is natures way of being humorous! Then you wake up one morning and look into the mirror at a gleaming scalp and scream out as if you had been robbed and molested all at the same time. Nature can really be cruel.
Most men accept the curse as hereditary, as I did, but I did hold out hope of a 50-50 chance I might not go bald, as my mother was not bald. No such luck. I never did the comb-overs and if I tried today, I would have to use my nose hair as my cranium is fuzz challenged now. Wifey tells me I still look sexy and virile, but I’m sure she tells me those things to keep me from buying a toupee. Not that I ever would, mind you, as it smacks of taxidermy to me. I do wear a lot of hats, but not from vanity. Hats prevent sunburn in summer and chills in winter. The reason I wear hats around the house is because of bats!
Right from the get-go, I need to say that being bald really isn’t an issue with me nor has it ever been. The fact that women weaken and go vaporous when first they view my gleaming plat or that children beg to have their little heads shaved once they set their beady little eyes on my gleaming magnitude, is not a matter that effects me. My baldness is not who I am. So what if I am exempt in matters of leading men in the movies or a rock star with flowing butt hanging tresses. Of course I could never be a commercial success as a front man for a hair gel line or do those infomercials for hair extensions.
When I attended my 30th high school reunion, I was shocked to see that I was the only “truly” bald male there. At my 40th reunion the place looked like the melon section of the farmer’s market....nature takes no prisoners. The way I see it, God only made a few perfect heads....the rest he covered in hair.