I shave my head. This is not a coverup of the ongoing loss of my hair, or the creeping grayness. In large part I do so for two reasons:
- I am a cheap bastard and can’t see handing over between $8 and $10 every week for a ‘haircut’ that amounts to waving the clippers near my melon to police up the stray long strands that pop up. For a few cents a whack, I can peel my head with a razor in the shower – a real twofer.
- My hair, when longer than 1/8″, has an odd texture. Combined with the thinning across my shiny dome, it amounts to what I call oughttabeen hair… ought to have been on a dog’s ass.
I was inspired by another blogger earlier this week who is also solar-powered, and in kicking around ideas in my mainly empty but very bald head, it occurred to me that the biggest issue I have with my hair isn’t the pattern baldness and such, but rather the apparent, creeping migration of my follicles southward to new venues.
Two very popular new locations for my migratory pilation seem to be my nose and ears. I can well understand that we have hair there to keep out dust, dirt, bugs, and wet fingers. Or perhaps to keep other substances that ought not be shared in. But why would the amount of ear/nose hair increase over the span of one’s life? It should decrease. In reality, little kids need that fuzz a lot more than someone my age does since they run around like little heathens getting dirty, playing with insects, and jamming spit-coated fingers in one another’s ears. Though I don’t personally and consistently exemplify this, adults generally engage in fewer activities like these.
I take comfort in the fact that some hair has opted for the Florida plan and has settled on my chest, which in my universe would be a normal place to find hair on an American male. Also, none of it has chosen to reside on my back – a big win. I do not want to be confused with a Sasquatch or other missing link creature and inadvertently shot, dressed out and mounted on one of my trips to the Deep South. This is all fine and dandy, but sometimes I worry that lack of attention will leave me in potentially embarrassing situations. Who wants to be stuck on an airplane or bus with some guy who apparently has a hamster living in his ear?
This getting old shit needs to stop.