About the Last Picture I Posted. . .

I posted a few picture of pure cuteness on Friday. And yes, I realize I've now proceeded to post nothing since then. But that isn't what this post is about. Oh no, this is about something far more profound. I'll have many more days to write excuses over why I stopped blogging for a day or why my entire week consisted almost entirely of links to my columns or pictures of the cute residents of my home. This is not that day. No, today I want to address one very specific picture in the little collection I posted.

The last picture you see my pets sit and look up at me while I type. It is a cute picture. A rare occurrence when both animals are actually sitting side by side (normally, one would be sitting while the other dangles from its mouth). It takes some work (and treats) to get a photo like that. But this isn't what I want to talk about either.

Instead, I want talk about the other figure in that photo. Me.

I know. I know. What a great shock; I want to talk about myself.

My discussion is about how I look in the photo. I realize it only shows my back. This view still shows something rather important. Well actually, it doesn't show something rather important.

Hair on the top of my head.

Now, I have the kind of lovely wife that made sure that this picture was not the moment I discover that hair at the back of my head was fleeing in rapid fashion. She does a good job of keeping me informed of such matters.

Unlike my dad who one day saw a photo that revealed the hair has disappeared, and he pondered how this "suddenly" happened. My mom kindly alerted him to the fact that it wasn't very sudden at all.

My wife feels it is her duty to make sure I know of things like disappearing hair. She also feels it is her duty to add some laughter after she informs me. It made that photo less of a shock, since I knew the prognosis back there wasn't good.

But it was the first time I'd ever actually seen the lack of hair over there. And it definitely wasn't a "eating seventy gallons of ice cream without ever getting fat" kind of magical experience. It was more of a "eating a carton of ice cream to only find out it was frozen pork fat" moment. But at least, I was expecting it, even though it was still a bit of "damn, I'm getting old."

The problem with waiting longer to have children is that they grow up seeing you when you're older. Everett won't know his dad with a full head of hair. I do have a vague memory of my dad having a bushel of hair residing on top of his head. In my case, not only am I having my children much older, but it seems like my hair is departing much sooner than it did from my father's head. So, my son will end up looking at old pictures of me and wonder who is that stranger with a full head of hair. Everett will know his dad as the guy who blinds those who walk past him in the summer.

I've known since I was really young that it was my destiny to be bald. I've been aware of the migration of hair for years. The front of my head has been a mess for a long time now. I had a receding hairline before I started dating Emily. I just recently discovered I had an entire tract of my head that was hairless. Or at least, pretty close to being absent of all things to do with hair.

I miss that hair. I don't miss it enough to start applying hair creams or anything like that. I sort of waited too long to take advantage of that, anyway. If I started strutting around the streets with a full head of hair, then it would be pretty obvious what I did. No subtly or grace for me. I clearly was the guy that had to turn to the Rogaine. And I just don't think it is worth the trouble. I might be willing to take the snide remarks and work involved if I knew there would be results. But I've heard a few cases of the medication not being effective. I don't like the idea of having to get into a routine or doing work for something that isn't a guarantee. I'm naturally lazy and like to limit doing time consuming activities. I don't think the whole process is worth it for me. Or at least, not at this exact moment. I'm also a rather moody fellow, and my feelings might change by the time lunch rolls around.

I'll probably end up shaving my head. I haven't done it yet, because I'm scared I have a rather odd shaped head. When you're bald, the shape of your head becomes more important. I've felt around my head, and there seems to be some bumps in strange places. I'd rather keep them hidden for as long as possible.

Plus there is the whole problem that I am really awful at shaving. I probably cut myself every other time I shave. So, I can't see how I'd be able to avoid having bits of Kleenex scattered all over my head after shaving. Once I think I've mastered this shaving thing (I have only been doing it for about 15 or so years), then I might be more willing to just rid my entire skull of hair.

It was a nice run while the hair lasted. I've missed the hair that I've had at the front for several years now. I may miss the hair in the back even more. It makes me think that maybe I should have appreciated it more when it was around. Maybe I could have spoken nicer to it or taken it out for a few dinners or been willing to play fetch with it. Those days are long gone now. The hair is likely chilling out in several bathroom drains, and has long forgotten the relationship we once had.

I'll never forget. I miss hair that once kept the top of my head warm. Oh hair, you were so fine.