Is this….bat country?
I shaved my head yesterday. I mean really shaved it–down to the skin bald. I’ve said to a few friends that my decision was one made on impulse, but that’s not the truth.
I’ve known for some time that I needed to embrace the bald. Watching the hairs atop my head grow thinner with each passing week, was, frankly, disheartening. For a long time my hair meant the world to me– it was one of the first things that I was given control of. When I decided just a few years ago to grow it out for my graduation photo’s, my relatives weren’t pleased, but damnit, they couldn’t make me change.
More recently though, I’d been hiding my hair underneath hats. Whenever I would take it off, the first thing that I chose to see was a hairline under thin blonde wisps. The sides were full, so to me it seemed that 30 extra years were staring back at me. It was tough.
Those closest to me knew how sensitive I was about my hair. Normally I can take a joke, but anytime my thinning hair was brought up I’d get quiet and shut down, or inject my own digs with real malice.
I’d tried vitamins, conditioners, oils, special thickening shampoos, everything (except for Rogaine) and nothing worked. It would grow longer with the passing days and when it was wet, the light blonde hair would turn nearly translucent. It was truly a sisyphean battle against genetics.
So, I pulled the trigger. I had a roommate, shoutout Akiba, use a one on my electric clippers gifted to me, shoutout Ethan, to get rid of the bulk. Then I loaded up my safety razor, put on the Chicago soundtrack and attacked the top of my dome. Oh, what a bloody affair– that razor bit. The alum block follow up doesn’t feel great either. A few passes and the “Cell Block Tango” later it was done.
After the deed was done, I felt a strange sense of self confidence. My hair was finally nothing to be conscience about– I’d reclaimed it.
This isn’t an anecdote about body positivity– very much the opposite, in fact. And, while I appreciate the movement as unrealistic beauty standards and genetics set impossibly high bars for nearly everyone, this is a story about change. There was something about myself that I didn’t like, didn’t find attractive, knew was inevitable, and decided to do something about it. I literally poured sweat and blood down my hair-littered drain until my head looked the way I wanted. I think it looks cool and I’m glad I found the motivation to change myself instead of being complacent.
Fuck flaccidly-thin hair. Embrace the bald.