Saturday, March 20, 2010

On Top of Mt. Baldy

Once upon a time, I said (I remember it well) that I would shoot myself if I ever went bald. I was probably 18-20 years old at the time and had a head of incorrigible dark brown hair that tinged with blond in the summer sun. It went everywhere; Afro-picks were used to untangle it and it had to be washed and dried daily. My crop sprouted cowlicks by the dozens, O'Cedar Mop Company wanted me as a model and ladies wished they had as thick and shiny hair as I did.

Get the picture?

I also remember a fateful day in the bathroom in my apt in Jefferson City circa 1993. I had the door partly closed exposing the full length mirror on the back while I was mopping the floor. I raised up and noticed the reflection of the back of my head and a big thin spot. There were screams, the mop was put away and I contemplated an early death.

The piles of hair in the shower and sink grew; Drain-o sent me a thank-you note for increasing its sales by 67%. I was too far gone for any over the counter remedy, and Hair Club for Men was out of my price range. I had to face the fact that like many men, I was going bald in my 30s.

Compounding the whole mess was the also not so gradual turn to a mousy grey-white color. I was too lazy to keep up with the Miss Clarol treatments that lasted only a couple weeks, and it fooled no one.

A couple weeks ago at one of our regular 303 nights, I mentioned to the boys that I was considering shaving the whole damn thing off. "Do it!", cried Rich. "You have the head shape for it, it would be fabulous." Rich, frankly, has never steered me wrong, so I thought about it. If I hated it I have plenty of hats and it would eventually grow back.

For some reason, today was the day. The first day of Spring seemed to be auspicious enough, even though I am watching it snow. I read a bit about it, figured my hair was short enough without a trip to the barber and waddled in the snow to Walgreen's to get some shaving gel and baby oil, two things experts said were required for a smooth job.

Part way over to Walgreen's I almost chickened out. But the "what the fuck" part of me pressed on. With my purchases in hand, I resolved to do it.

Washed my hair, said good bye and lathered it up with the gel and a dose of baby oil. Scrape, scrape, scrape, there was more there than I thought. But it did come off easy, usually in big wads. I dried off and used the handy-dandy Norelco electric's clipper blade to smooth off. Another application of the gel-oil mix and some more fancy blade work removed more. Unfortunately, a bit of red-tinged gel told me I had nicked my scalp... big time. So some first-aid and a break for lunch as the bleeding stopped. I guess just one nick for a first timer isn't so bad. (Ok so I found two other small ones, I am not known for my fancy blade work anyway.)

The back of my head had the most hair left, and of course that was the hardest part to reach. A brutal, who cares whack-job with the scissors got the thicker part cut down to size and it soon joined the rest in the sink. A go over with the rotary blades of the Norelco smoothed the plains and got the occasional stand of hair that was missed.

Outside of the noticeable nick, it really looks pretty good. Frankly, it makes me look younger. Getting rid of the old man gray-white crap took a couple years off. It is not baby butt smooth, but it is closer. A few more gleanings with the Norelco should do it.

I'll do a picture sometime, but not today, there is a band-aid on my head.

My Hair 1957(?)- 2010


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Think I've come to that realization with my body. Unfortunately, I share the exact same genes as my Uncle Hubert, who died at 60 of a heart attack in part because he had a big keg belly just like I do!

Talked to a doctor about my "shape" and he said all my niggling health problems stem from so much belly fat pressing on my organs and preventing me from exercising. Yes, at almost 310 lbs., it's that bad. I don't eat a lot, just a lot of the wrong foods, you know, anything that has any taste to it. And I use to win trophies in my weight class at 5k/10k/15k races in the early 90s!

I'll trade what little hair I have left to be 100 pounds lighter. Shit, who am I kidding? It's not going to happen until I hit the meth full on. But since I can't afford a meth addiction, I'll have to think something else up.