I’m fucking bald. I wasn’t always this way, but I’ve been hair challenged for over a decade meaning that my hairline retreated from the battle of daily combing when I was about 21.
It was in our Lord’s year 2002 that I last had a full head of hair. I had just become an RM, rejected missionary, and I vowed to not cut my hair or shave my beard for one whole year. The beard made it about three weeks and then I couldn’t stand the smell of my own hair under my nose or the way it made my throat itch (boy have things changed) that I shaved that shit off lickity split. But the hair, oh, the hair made it the full year.
Back when I had hair and I happened to be letting it grow out, it was wavy and kind of a big mess. It was scared of my ears. Such that it wouldn’t grow over them regardless of how long my locks got. Nope, it would reach the top of my lobes and then recoil in horror as it swooped back toward the sky. Hell, I tried everything you could think of to get my hair to play nice with my ears. The only thing that semi-worked was wearing a beanie in the morning after I got out of the shower. This was great until we hit the middle of the summer and it was 110 out. I no longer cared if my hair covered my ears or quite frankly what the fuck it looked like as long as I didn’t have to wear a beanie in the morning.
I was in Chile when I finally cut my locks off. It was in February just after I had moved back down. I left awesome beanie weather here in the Northern Hemisphere and entered humid non-beanie weather in the South. Once the calendar clicked over my vowed year, I shaved almost my whole head. I left what most people would refer to as bangs but even at the point in my life they were just mere imposters. Then I dyed them red. And then, due to the persistence of my ex-mother-in-law that I was a bad influence on all the good boys in the neighborhood, I shaved my head complete like.
That was the last time I really had hair.
I can’t grow hair and I refuse to wear a suit. Well, I can’t grow hair on my head.
I bring this up because I find it weird the lengths that we as ‘Mericans go to to hide what we really look like. Yes, I said weird and that is the only word I think properly describes this phenomena. We spend billions of dollars on cosmetics, clothing, hair pieces, facials, breast augmentation, botox, penis pills… I’m sure that if my brain wasn’t properly lubricated I could keep going on and on with that list. The things is, I just don’t get it.
I can’t imagine what it feels like to wake up in the morning and think, “Oh dear God! I look so horrible I must spend 30 minutes putting this shit on my face so I can pretend that I look like something else.” or closer to home, “Shit! This wind is going to move my hair piece and everyone will know that I am bald.” I say that I don’t know what it feels like because I just can’t grasp the concept. How did we become a society so fake that it is consider a social faux pas to go out in public without “putting on your face.”
What are we trying to hide? Are we really all so horrible looking that we have to spend all that time and money trying to look differently?
I go to Smith’s a lot. It’s next to the shop and they dispense vital dietary items such as Mountain Dew and Funyons. A couple of years ago, there was a young girl, in her early 20s, who worked there and I would see her a couple of times a week. There was nothing peculiar or hideous about her appearance, or at least there wasn’t until she turned around. The easiest way to describe her face would to reference the Drew Carey Show. Her makeup made her look like Mimi.
For those who didn’t watch the show.
Her eyelids were a bright color of blue. Her eyebrows had been made devoid of any real hair and replaced with a dark black line. Her eyelashes were at least a full inch long. Her lips were bordered by an ironically bright red. Seeing that I saw her every couple of days, it quickly became apparent that this wasn’t actually makeup but had been tattooed in place. Every time I saw her I felt bad. Not because I had personally done something to her, but rather that she felt enough pressure from her surroundings to change her appearance in such a way that she had actually made herself hideous. At least in my opinion.
This is obviously an extreme case, but the concept holds true. It’s just weird.
And it’s not just the ladies. I don’t care what you think, shaving your legs and arms will not make you any faster on a bike. Trust me, I shaved for years. Fact of the matter is, it grows back and you can’t tell any difference. Road rash? Nope it doesn’t help with that either. If you get road rash bad enough that having no hair will help, well guess what, you just ripped all your hair off with the crash. So no, it doesn’t help.
So yea, I’m bald. To be honest, I just don’t care. It’s who I am and has been for the past decade. I don’t miss my hair. It saves me time in the morning and hasn’t changed my outlook on life. Sure, people like to point out the obvious and pretend that I should care. Or maybe they really think I should, either way I just don’t get it.
Quite frankly, I feel like we all look like a bunch of chickens running around with Peacock feathers stuck behind our ears.
It’s just weird.
P. L. and R.
