I've been shaving my head for the last dozen years or so. It grew out of a desire to free myself from the early 90's shackles of mousse and hairspray, and anyone who has seen photos of my Big Hair past will no doubt agree that it was a wise decision.
I go to a fabulous, crazy Russian lady in the East Village to get shorn once a week; I probably could do it myself, but my poor eyesight and general lack of coordination would most likely result in my lying in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor.
Anyway, a few months ago, I went an entire four weeks without seeing Regina. My work schedule had exploded, and I had barely a free moment for necessities like martinis, let alone a trek down to the East Village. I wasn't too pleased -- a shaved head that starts to grow out resembles nothing so much as a molting Chia Pet. But I was completely unprepared for the shock that greeted me when I caught a rear view glimpse of my head in the mirror.
My hair was growing out everywhere except the top of my scalp. I had a huge, round bald spot. I think I screamed. If my eyes have ever popped, they did at that moment.
For years, I'd been telling people that I shaved my head simply for convenience's sake, and also because I liked how it looked. (At the risk of sounding immodest, and completely delusional, I'd go pate-to-pate with Yul Brynner any day.) Now, I needed to continue shaving to mask nature's cruel trick. How long had this been going on?
I made an appointment with Regina the very next day, after carefully examining my face for laugh lines and considering Botox. I've never been particularly conscious of age (mine or anyone else's), but I suddenly felt like a desperate housewife.
The shock and horror have dimmed somewhat, but I have yet to fully embrace my destiny. It will be some time before I can stand in front of strangers and say, "My name is Todd, and I am balding."
I can tell you all this much -- I'm never missing a week with Regina again. If I discover my first grey hair, it might be cataclysmic.
I've been entertaining the inevitable myself.
ReplyDeleteahem
My hair dresser, however, is resistant. I think she's afraid I (and my wallet) will abandon her.
Smart of you to get in early....and look so great doing it!
Oh, no. If you want to avoid the dreaded Chia Pet look, she'll probably see you *more* often than she does now.
ReplyDeleteWelcome, brother. We've been expecting you.
(And thanks for the compliment!)
Why look a gift bald spot in the mouth? If you're lucky enough to look so good with no hair, embrace it.
ReplyDeleteDon't to forget to tip Regina.
Thats why men are so fortunate today.
ReplyDeleteIn my youth it was all about hair. Now no matter the age bald is in style.
I'm afraid with my head and face the "Mister Clean" look wouldn't suit me at all. So I've always been very thankful God continues to bless me with a full head of the stuff. Silver tho it may be.
You on the other hand rival Yul Brenner and now that I've seen you I can't imagine you any other way.
Peenee -- Oh, I embrace having a shaved head. It's the sudden necessity of it that I'm peeved about it. LOL.
ReplyDeleteDray -- I would love, love, love to have a full head of beautifully salt and peppered hair. Looks great on you. Unfortunately, even when I had a full head of really Big Hair, mine is so fine, it just kinda lays there. Which is why I tortured it with L.A. Looks and Aqua Net in my youthful folly.
But it's more fashionable to be bald.
ReplyDeleteOh, I don't think that's necessarily true. And a lot of people who shouldn't do the bald look still go there (are you reading this, David Evangelista and Robert Verdi?). Silver is definitely being seen more and more in fashion spreads: witness John Slattery's layout in GQ. It offsets grey suits marvelously; if I had silver hair, I'd be wearing beautiful light grey suits all the time.
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