Repent - and Thin No More

Time for a haircut.

For me, haircuts are kind of like surgery - if I'm up and walking the next day, it went well. It's because I refused to face reality for about 40 years.

You see, I used to have long, fabulous locks. All one length, down past my shoulders, in a sun-bleached golden blonde. Even after I left California, it was still a rich brown color, and reached all the way to my elbows. I was more than once mistaken for a girl (when I was seated and viewed from behind), and women would often state their jealousy at the richness of my tresses. Ah, the halcyon days of youth...

But hidden within my voluminous mane was a time bomb - MALE PATTERN BALDNESS.

Of course, I knew it was coming. My maternal grandfather was sporting the "Captain Picard" by the time he was in his mid-thirties. It is my genetic heritage - and yet I pretended it was not so. I blithely believed that I would beat the odds, and have a long, flowing coiffure for my whole life, but it was not to be.

I have finally been forced by the departure of my cranial cillium to accept my condition. My hair has, in fact, issued its congé. Yes, there are special shampoos and creams, ointments and unguents, which can slow the exodus, but short of surgery, nothing can stave off the inevitable exposure of my pate. To prevent the papal paparazzi from making a spectacle of this, I have decided to go public myself - I don't want some tawdry video made in a poorly-lit hotel room to be my coming out of the balding closet.

BEHOLD! The Thinning...



Many thanks to Fleur, whose kung fu grip on the English language helped inform this post.

6 comments:

fleur said...

Well, like my granddad used to say, "God made a few perfect heads, the rest of them he gave hair." Clearly, you are just coming into you perfect years.

Cerus said...

As a veteran of hair loss, I can say that you will survive, and, as I have done in many situations, you can someday double as a survival mirror when you're trapped and need to signal aircraft flying overhead.

the only bagel in france said...

That maternal grandfather thing isn't very true actually, we've found out. My grandfather, at 75, still has a full head of hair, whereas my poor 26 year old brother is rapidly losing his. At least you had yours for as long as you did! And now you can work on an awesome beard/facial hair to make up for it.

His Sinfulness said...

Bagel,
I have often said that my hair was migrating - every hair that disappears from my scalp seems to reappear somewhere farther south... :)

Raksha said...

You know, you could always take a page from Julius Ceasar's book (or scroll or wax tablet or whatever) and start wearing a laurel wreath everywhere. That'll distract people from your hair!

His Sinfulness said...

But fresh laurel is so hard to get this time of year... ;)

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