I may have reached the point in my life when the pictures that are taken of me right now will no longer be approached with the “look how young I was” response in the future. They, instead, may very well be met with the “I still had hair then” nostalgia. That reality is deafening. I love Nostalgia, I’ve been in a perpetual state of it most of my life but I also love my hair. I don’t know how to cope with this. There are a lot of things that are worse and I feel like a child that’s not getting their way but I’m not ready to be faced with my mortality and that’s what this represents.
I’ve always been fond of my hair, since I could remember. Matter of fact, since before I could remember. My mother told me of the first time I got my haircut. Don’t mistake this for the times before when my mum got my haircut. This was the first time I got to direct it. Apparently, the hair stylists thought I was a riot. I’d have numbers for individual strands of hair and specific lengths. I made up my own style. It did kind of resemble a mullet, I won’t lie or try to play it off, but I did have the cool 80’s horizontal lines shaved into the sides of my head. I rocked spiky hair on top and that long Macgyver look in the back. I was ready for anything with that doo. My mum, who specializes in Early Childhood Education, once spoke of the psychology of a child in terms of what they obsess about as a toddler is what they will obsess about as a teenager. For me, it was my hair and obsess I did. Hopefully, that theory rains true for a connection between adolescence and adulthood. I cared about my hair then, a lot in fact, however I still recall a kind of ‘putting up with’ attitude. Lo and behold as my teenage years hit, I became infatuated with my hair. I started to spike it and ran with that. I was doing what I call the ‘douchebag spike’ long before the douches and I still, kind of, do it.
I don’t care as much now as I did then about my doo, but the whole thinning thing is bothersome. I’m not the only one that is having the issue. I have many friends at or around my age that have been rocking the bald look for quite some time and I’m not a woman. No offense, but I’m sure balding for a woman is a lot more painful than as a man. Social Stigma. Hell, looking at it in the evolutionary standpoint, I’m ahead of the curve. I’m more evolved, more refined and finding this thought troublesome to honestly sell. Also, once I start shaving my head, I will never have to worry about my hair or a ‘bad hair day’ ever again. I’ll save on shampoo. I can fortunately rock a beard, too. So, why am I so upset?
Maybe it is the mortality thing. Maybe I’m starting to see that I’m no longer becoming more of an adult, a prominent force in the world, but, maybe, I’m starting to fade out. Maybe I feel as though I have physically peaked? I don’t really have an answer. I ignored the bald spot for a while. Refusing to consciously acknowledge its existence and laugh it off if anyone around me was real enough to talk about it. However, within a year or two, its not so easily brushed off. I catch glimpses of it in the mirror; some recent pictures shed light on how bad it has gotten. I’m grieving.
I finally realized that I’m beginning to accept and that stings. I’m starting to picture myself in the future with a shiny dome. I’ve been angry. I’ve done the whole ‘why is this happening to me’ thing. Starred at the back of other guys’ heads with envy and disgust. I’ve thought about how I’ve wasted time with my hair when I did have it. I’ve thought about how, maybe, there was some other reason for this and if I could fix that then, maybe, I could get it back. I never thought this would be so detrimental to my level of confidence and how I viewed myself. I’ve started to keep my hair shorter. I’ve started to move on. I’ve sought out advice. I have a game plan. That being said, do me a favor then, eh? Friends and family, don’t let me be one of those guys who goes on too long trying? Let me know when enough is enough? I can’t see the back of my head and I intend to ride this out as long as I can...
Comments
Post a Comment