All young men fear the day when they become bald. In the Philippines, young men fear other things a lot more, but universally balding is a shared panic among male species. It’s a horrifying process. You don’t just go from Rapunzel to Bruce Willis overnight.
Balding is not a graceful process no matter how swan-like your hair disappears. Your hair follicles fall out like a leper determined to fight for its life. Unless you get one of those surgeries where you have your butt hair placed on your head (I think that’s how it works) you’re doomed to a life of applying sunscreen to your cranium.
I’m beginning to bald and it’s not fun. The only good thing about it is I never notice how much progress death has made on my hair until I actually see a video from behind. Jenny insists my hair is simply thinning, but she’s just being nice. She knows damn well there are crop circles appearing on top of my skull.
I’ve never really taken great care of my hair. I don’t use special products or even comb it with anything other than my fingers or the occasional butter knife (mostly sans butter). Now that it has decided to depart, I’m worried I didn’t spend enough time with it.
On the plus side, I do have more nose hairs appearing. Nature is cruel like that. The more hair you lose where it belongs the more it grows in somewhere you’d rather not see a booger dangling from.
Women have a lot of issue they deal with as they get older. Menopause sounds scary and being a 40-year-old in Hollywood is not something I’d wish upon my worst enemy. Ironically, Sharon Stone is my worst enemy so I don’t have to.
Jenny recently partook in speeding up my balding process by giving me a haircut. She changed up the style from something short and innocent to one closer to a domestic terrorist. I wonder, though, if badass bikers ever have their wives rub their shaved heads while saying “baby’s butt.”
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