In Other Words with Dave – October 2020
I miss my hair. And I really didn’t have great hair. I never noticed how many guys are bald. I don’t think this guy or that guy would look better with hair – it’s not a judgement thing, I just notice my brothers more now that I’m in the club. But for me, I miss it.
Alison assures me that she likes my “Bruce Willis” look. She says it’s handsome. I appreciate her comparison to the “Die Hard” action movie hero, I prefer her sentiments over one of my riding buddies. He refers to my follicle-free look as “Daddy Warbucks.”
No hair means I have less to do in the shower. I guess that’s good, or at least time and cost efficient. But showers just don’t feel done without scrubbing and rinsing my golden-brown, peppered-with-gray locks. So I just stand there lamenting the loss.
And what a pain, all my baseball caps had to be readjusted (all two). I had never really put much thought into the density and thickness of a healthy collection of follicles. Okay, not exactly a major inconvenience, but it’s something. I’m complaining, don’t stop me.
I also miss the natural protection of hair. I was up in the attic recently, crouching around looking for something, and I thought, if I bang my head on a rafter, like I occasionally do – there’s no hiding my “dumb guy” move. There’s gonna be a bruise. I know this from experience.
Truly, all minor inconveniences, I’ll get over my vanity. I think the saddest part of all this is catching a glimpse of my bare noggin in the mirror or a reflection in a window. That, unfortunately, reminds me of my present schedule of medical treatments. On the upside, I’m told my hair will likely grow back. I’m hoping for super-tight red curls. Goodbye Daddy Warbucks – Hello, Annie! That would be fetching.
