I was talking to a single young man yesterday. He was confiding in me his concern about his early stage hair loss. I could instantly commiserate with the hair loss stages of grief he was going through. I remember all too well, the constant checking in the mirror, walking past Rogaine in the drug store, and paying more attention to those late night commercials for Bosley hair restoration.
My wife was always available to tell me “it’s not that bad” or “if someone is looking at you face to face, you can’t even see the back of your head.” For women, who have a hard time understanding this, it is probably the equivalent of asking your husband or partner, “do you think I look fat?” You really don’t want to hear, ” yeah.” You are hoping for,” naawh, you look great.” But on the inside, you know that something has changed. You are not the same you that you once were. And then when all hope for reclaiming your lost youth is gone, you have kids.
On Sunday, I was on the floor playing Candy land with the family. In between turns, Ry would come by and gently drum on my “spot.” That is how my bald spot is referred to in my family. Sometimes my wife or sons will express concern for my “spot” by asking if I put sun tan lotion on it. The most recent use for my “spot” occurred at the Custard Street Festival in Evanston.
J was getting tired from playing in the park and walking around, so I offered to put him up on my shoulders. My wife then ordered him a smoothie. He then wisely decided that my “spot” would function as a coaster for his drink. I had to smile. For that moment, I was glad I had my “spot.”