Hair Today, Gone
A comedy article
by Whistler P. McManus  186,021  44
02/03/2005 10:10 PM 780 views
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I think I realized pretty early in life that I wasn't one of the beautiful people, and I've done the best I could with what I have since then. I'm not really vain, but I do try to keep a sort of artsy/literary/intellectual look going, I've been successful at staying basically weight appropriate for my height, and I've always had my hair. My amazing hair, which is the one thing I will admit that I'm vain about.
My hair is pin straight, fine but quite thick, and up until I was about ten years old, was a pale golden color. It darkened a little bit then, and took on some coppery highlights (completely natural, mind you). I'm hugely into music, and was born in 1961, so I lived through the British invasion, the age of Aquarius, disco fever, the punk and new wave movements, glam, the hair bands of the '80's and the grunge revolution. I had the hairstyles to go with most of them. I had every hairstyle from Greg Allman to Michael Stipe, with long stops along the way at Eric Clapton and Johnny Rotten. I've had Mohawks, mushrooms, Princetons, bowl cuts, fadeaways, feathers and undercuts. I've tried every color from jet black to platinum. About the only things I never tried were mullets and perms.
Sometime during my early to mid-thirties, white hairs started appearing here and there. At first it was a novelty, and then I went through the lady Clairol phase, but after a while I decided that the white hairs added a bit of distinction, and mostly just lightened the overall look of my hair. Besides, white hairs in the beard are notoriously hard to color, and my beard grows very quickly, which would mean constant root battling. I haven't appeared clean-shaven since childhood, and am not about to start now, so I let it go.
And again, sometime in my thirties, I noticed that the sides of my hairline in the front were receding in the Jack Nicholson pattern, which also failed to bother me. My maternal grandfather had a hairline like that, which never retreated very far. He lived well into his seventies and had quite a full head of hair all the while. The persistent folklore is that this is the person whose balding pattern one will follow.
Anyway, no matter what I do to my hair, or what happens to it, someone always tells me it's fabulous. Always. Fabulous. No stranger has ever approached me and said, "Wow, you are one handsome son of a bitch," but strangers have frequently stopped me to admire my hair, or to ask who cut it. A stripper once gave me a free lapdance on the condition that I let her play with my hair.
A couple of years ago, I was getting a little tired of my Kurt Cobain look, and Kurt was already cold in his grave anyway, so I got most of my hair cut off. A nice, short haircut, but not too short, especially on top, and a neatly trimmed Hollywood style goatee seemed like a reasonable compromise for my varied professional duties, and made me look like less of a potential child molester at the PTA meetings. I took to keeping it a little shorter in the summer, when I often have to wear a hat to Civil War events anyway, and then not cutting it at all from Labor Day until right before Christmas. After Christmas I let it go again until early spring, when I start my regular regimen of summer haircuts.
Here's me and my hair (and my boy Liam):
So on the Tuesday before Christmas, I made a trip down to the barber (yes, I go to a barber, not a stylist) for a good cut. When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom to give a little sprucing up to the facial hair, which I always cut myself. As I leaned in close to the mirror to get the sideburns just right, I noticed something amiss at the top of my forehead. Actually, what I noticed was that there was a tiny bit more of the top of my forehead than I remembered having. The hair right there, front and center, was positively sparse! I reeled back in horror. Then I leaned in again. I could absolutely see scalp quite clearly through the hair in a semi-circular spot a little larger than a quarter. The earth seemed to slip a little on its axis. I had to go lie down.
Here it is:
And here it is up close:
When EJ (my wife) came home, I asked her to come into the bathroom with me. I lifted up the hair that was hanging down on my forehead asked her to look closely at my hairline.
"What do you think," I asked, "It's definitely thinning there in the front, right?"
"It's not a big deal," she replied, looking a little nervous, "Yes, it is a bit thinner there, but no one would ever notice it with the way your hair falls."
Now this woman lives for her own hair. She fusses over it for an hour a day, at least, and makes countless trips to the salon, where money is spread around like butter at a Fat Girls in Party Hats convention. She has a walk in closet dedicated to hair styling related tools and products. And I know that she knows that my hair is a big deal to me. I began to get worried.
"It's not thinning in the back, too, is it," I asked.
EJ looked stricken. She turned pale. She stammered a bit. Now this poor woman is a terrible liar. She would almost never even think of telling a lie, and if she did, she'd have to consider the fact that the person she told it to, if they knew her at all, would probably realize that she was lying.
"Okay, here's the story. You have a thin spot in the back," she began.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I silently screamed.
As the story turned out, it seems that about a year and a half or two years ago she first noticed a thinning spot on the crown of my head. Shortly after that, Eamon (my older son) noticed it as I went down a flight of stairs just ahead of the rest of the family. EJ saw the look on his face, and saw him point and his mouth begin to open, and managed to clamp her hand over his yapper before the comment flew.
EJ and Eamon discussed this turn of events among themselves, wondering whether or not I should be told about it. On the side of telling me was the thought that I might want to do something about it: transplant, weave, toupee, rogaine, monoxidol, powdered rhinoceros horn, salmon semen or some other such remedy. Against telling me was the likelihood that I wouldn't do anything about it but flip out and become obsessed. Unable to figure out what was best, they decided that EJ should consult with my sisters at the next campfire.
A word on the McNeil family girls' campfire. My sisters and my wife, and occasionally the wife of one or more of my brothers, gather periodically at the family's ancestral farm for the purpose of wine consumption and late night gossip. Fires are optional at these campfires. The fire may consist of a cooling hibachi grill, or perhaps simply a candle (citronella, if conditions call for it). I think it's the spirit of the event, like a girl scout outing with some alcohol added, that lends it the name. Brothers and husbands might be invited to stop by, but no man ever stays very long.
Here's the back spot, by the way:
And the close up:
So my darling wife brings the question of my hair to the attention of four of my sisters (Marsha, Mary Margaret, Mary Susan and Mary Catherine) and my brother F.X. at their 4th of July gathering. Heated debate followed, but a decision was made to keep me in the dark, and everyone agreed to honor it. Someone managed to spill the beans to my mother, though, and she passed the information on to her boyfriend, Fred. At least two of my sisters also decided that it was okay to tell their husbands, and one of them even told her teenaged daughter.
Now, you might be thinking that everyone must have noticed it already, but with the exception of my brother F.X., I'm at least three inches taller than everyone else in my family. In fact, none of my sisters comes within seven inches of being as tall as I am, and my mother is a full foot shorter than I. So these people do not normally see the top of my head. At this point, unfortunately, to see the top of my head became a priority for everyone. So every time I sat down, someone walked behind my chair. Every time I headed down the stairs, someone followed a few steps behind. No one in the family wanted to miss a chance to get on a stepladder to change a light bulb or get something off a high shelf. And this went on, without my noticing, for the better part of two years.
Now that I knew all of this, I had to do something to regain my dignity. One by one, I called up all of the offending parties.
"I know," I stated simply. My mother and three of the four sisters instantly knew what I was talking about. Only Mary Catherine, who's a little slow on the uptake, had to ask what I knew.
So, one by one I told them all how I found out and we all had a good laugh about it. I didn't call F.X., but he called me within an hour or two, asking that I provide monthly photographs of my hairline's progress so that he could better gauge his expectations for his own follicular future. I had to be a good sport about it, and pretend that I really didn't mind that they all knew about it and joked about it behind my back, because I'm always the one in our family who makes the jokes, pulls the pranks and teases the others. I also had to prove that I didn't flip out about it as they had all predicted (even though I did flip out while no one was around to see it).
When it came time to go see all of them in person, on Christmas day, I had one more move to reassert my comedic dominance of the family. The night before, we celebrated with EJ's family and an assortment of family friends. One of the friends was Alan, a family friend since forever who happens to be a devout Jew.
"Alan, have you got a spare yarmulke in the car," I asked.
"For you - always," he replied.
"Mazel tov!"
So on Christmas morning I arrived at the farm wearing a yarmulke to cover the spot, and cheerily wishing everyone a happy Chanukah.
Whistler P. McManus is the nom de plume of James Abbot McNeill, a professor of ethnomusicology at the State University of New York and frequent contributor to Obsolete Woodwind magazine.
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Like This? Rate It!
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Hilarious
45 votes
4.9
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24 Comments on "Hair Today, Gone"
(Funniest: La Pistola) |
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Underwhere? 101,393  77
02/15/2005 07:05 PM
First!
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Just Chit till Presidents Day 178,776 15
02/15/2005 07:07 PM
Dude, I know you can tell, but you have ten years before anyone other than family even thinks of you as someone with thinning hair.
As for the article, I could care less about someone Else's hair, but you had my attention like I was reading an awesome novel.
I assume you read a lot, because you are a truly talented writer bud .
I know more about your hair than my own now.
Good Show.
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Chris Garrett 86,932 12
02/15/2005 07:08 PM
I feel your pain.
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Side-splitting
1 votes
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La Pistola 10,071 9
02/15/2005 07:18 PM
Wow, you are one handsome son of a bitch.
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Roofie Raccoon 56,688 10
02/15/2005 07:19 PM
I couldn't care less about a man's hair thinning (unless he tries the dreaded combover) but I admit to being a little taken aback that the line about the free lapdance was followed by a picture of your kid. Darn complex men.
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The High Priestess of Stewie 58,884 29
02/15/2005 07:40 PM
<action> Grabs brush, flips hair over and brushes out my thick lustrious wavy hair </action>
Wow, you are one handsome son of a bitch.
Pistol! Stop talking about his kid!
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The Mailman: ringing twice, as always 176,450 56
02/15/2005 07:43 PM
I noticed that the sides of my hairline in the front were receding in the Jack Nicholson pattern
Same here. I'm not sure though, that this is hereditary. I prefer to think that it is normal wear, due to the frequent rubbing against a woman's thighs.
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Livewire 78,229 13
02/15/2005 09:39 PM
I've had flecks of gray since I was 15, and Jack Nicholson forehead since I was 18. At the time, I thought it was cool. I never got carded for anything. Now that I'm in my thirties and it belongs on me, I hate it.
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Roofie Raccoon 56,688 10
02/15/2005 09:43 PM
Blah, blah, blah. We all know that men look "distinguished" with some grey while women look "old" with some grey. Men are allowed to be self-conscious about lack of hair but not about hair colour.
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HighSoci 30,093 18
02/15/2005 09:54 PM
I feel your pain.
Hey Chris, is now a bad time to remind you that you have your hand in his pants?
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Whistler P. McManus 186,021 44
02/16/2005 01:08 AM
Thanks for all the kind words, kids.
And Pistol, I love you.
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Frogpop 173,153 25
02/16/2005 01:11 AM
Fifes cause baldness!
..but then what's my excuse?
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Whistler P. McManus 186,021 44
02/16/2005 09:06 AM
Fifes only cause baldness to the tiny hairs of your inner ears.
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turtle10 42,578 26
02/16/2005 09:45 AM
I noticed my forehead getting bigger whne I was about 24 or so, and it hasn't stoped since. I used to be known for my great hair cuts as well, but once it started thin noticeably I shaved my head ala Chris Garret for a few years and then recently my wife sked what it would look like if I grew it in. I hate it, she likes it. There is no comb over, I just gel it forward and messy.
What I am trying to say is I can relate to your plight, except I am only now 28. Like it was mentioned above, you are a great story teller.
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La Pistola 10,071 9
02/16/2005 10:35 PM
And Pistol, I love you.
I've got two words for you, baby, and those are:
Tee.
Hee.
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Whistler P. McManus 186,021 44
02/17/2005 09:00 AM
Tee.
Hee.
Please tell me this is a good thing, like you're giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl, okay?
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Dweezil Meniketti 77,546 17
02/17/2005 09:59 AM
Dude. Just shave it. Some chicks dig bald guys.
I've gotten more action since I shaved my head than I did in all the years I had hair, even before it started thinning.
Yup, my chrome dome has gotten me laid on more than one occasion.
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Gabe 9,232 13
02/17/2005 10:57 AM
Amen, brother. Women can't resist rubbing a freshly shorn bald head. Especially with their boobies.
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SpecialKake 55,555 14
02/17/2005 10:59 AM
My girlfriend found a grey hair on my head the other day. I'm dying at the age of 27.
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Side-splitting
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La Pistola 10,071 9
02/17/2005 11:12 AM
Whistler, I am most definitely the giggling, blushing school girl. Just need to change into my pleated skirt.
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larkknot 3,359 10
02/17/2005 09:59 PM
Thank goodness that, even without dye, I can expect my hair to remain its natural brown color until my 60's. We buried my 80-ish years old grandmother with her uncolored hair still looking pretty brown, and I can still count the grey hairs on my 50 year old mother's head. Now, the male side of my family is not so lucky - they get to go grey at 35! Haha that's what they get for being blonds.
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Whistler P. McManus 186,021 44
02/18/2005 10:54 AM
Just need to change into my pleated skirt.
Suddenly something of mine has become unpleated.
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Everett, a.k.a. Sy the Photo Guy 6,547 10
02/18/2005 01:55 PM
Suddenly something of mine has become unpleated.
Well, laddie, are ye tryin' to say there's a tilt to your kilt?
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peoriagrace 6,166 11
08/11/2007 11:03 AM
frequent contributor to Obsolete Woodwind magazine
Do you also play?
What's the difference between an onion and an oboe?
You cry when you cut up an onion.
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