paulwojnicki
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It was a shock finding out, to say the least. I’d had no idea, no idea at all. I think it was Phil that pointed it out first. Perhaps he didn’t find it too rude because he didn’t have a single hair on his head. Ill never forget his words, they will haunt me forever.
“You’re gonna go†he’d said.
“Go whatâ€
“Bald!!!â€
The word hit me like a boxer on angel dust. Bald.
“What makes you say that?†I asked.
“The fact that from behind you are starting to resemble Cadfael†He wasn’t gonna pull the punches. I looked at him. The sneering cretin, he was enjoying this.
Within minutes I was in the bathroom trying desperately to view my cortex in the tiny mirror. It was no use, I’d have to ask for a second opinion.
“Ohhh, yes. You are, you’re starting to get the monk on†said Alison. Confirming my worst fears.
That must have been the longest day I ever spent at the office. I couldn’t wait to get home. Surely these guys were playing some sick practical joke on me, Phil for one couldn’t stop laughing. At 5 o clock I sped home, forsaking my usual after work beverage in my desperation to see the extent of my disfigurement. I dashed upstairs, grabbed the hand mirror from the dressing table and headed for the bathroom. Lining up the mirrors to look at the back of my head I saw it. A pronounced ring right at the top of my head. How had I never seen this before. Surely I cant have missed it in the hairdressers. My god, this was the worst day of my life.
I could feel my confidence draining away, taking all my strength with it. I was Samson and this patch was my Delilah. To me the patch was like a tumor. I could almost feel it spreading out, poisoning my once flowing locks. I had always been successful with the ladies and now that would end. At 6ft 1ins and only 11 stones I was too skinny to pull off a shaved head. I would look like a P.O.W. There was no way I would ever be able to pay for surgery, and besides if surgery worked how come there were so many bald, rich men around. The only thing I could do was cut the hair shorter and use a tanning lamp to brown the bald patch, then maybe it wouldn’t be so apparent.
I stuck with this approach for a good six months, until by chance my car broke down and I was forced to take the bus. On the back were several school children. They were throwing things around and generally acting disruptively until, eventually, a pen hit me on the back of the head. I immediately turned round and chastised the group, telling them to sit down and be quiet.
“Shut up baldie!†Came the retort from a laughing little punk aged about 11.
“Yeah, grandad, this is a bus not The Ark†added another.
Granddad! Jesus, I was only 27. But the kids were relentless. Each insult tore another strip from my already emasculated psyche. That was the final straw. Some thing had to be done.
It only cost 20 quid in the end. 20 quid for a four months supply. The bottle said that 4 out of 5 men experienced regrowth within 4 months. Thank God I wasn’t one of the 20 percent that didn’t. Of course I am a slave to this product forever now, no doubt I’d sell my house and contents to feed my new habit, well for as long as they make it anyway. Another downside is that my scalp itches like crazy for about an hour after I make the application. But again that’s a price I am more than prepared to pay, I’d probably keep up the treatment if it turned out to be cancerous. I can feel the confidence surging through each of my newly functioning follicles. The world is my oyster, I feel I have my life back. Some people have pointed out that what I needed was therapy, not hair treatments. They say that my problems are psychological and will only come back in some other way. But they can say what they want, I don’t care because I’VE GOT HAIR!!!!
“You’re gonna go†he’d said.
“Go whatâ€
“Bald!!!â€
The word hit me like a boxer on angel dust. Bald.
“What makes you say that?†I asked.
“The fact that from behind you are starting to resemble Cadfael†He wasn’t gonna pull the punches. I looked at him. The sneering cretin, he was enjoying this.
Within minutes I was in the bathroom trying desperately to view my cortex in the tiny mirror. It was no use, I’d have to ask for a second opinion.
“Ohhh, yes. You are, you’re starting to get the monk on†said Alison. Confirming my worst fears.
That must have been the longest day I ever spent at the office. I couldn’t wait to get home. Surely these guys were playing some sick practical joke on me, Phil for one couldn’t stop laughing. At 5 o clock I sped home, forsaking my usual after work beverage in my desperation to see the extent of my disfigurement. I dashed upstairs, grabbed the hand mirror from the dressing table and headed for the bathroom. Lining up the mirrors to look at the back of my head I saw it. A pronounced ring right at the top of my head. How had I never seen this before. Surely I cant have missed it in the hairdressers. My god, this was the worst day of my life.
I could feel my confidence draining away, taking all my strength with it. I was Samson and this patch was my Delilah. To me the patch was like a tumor. I could almost feel it spreading out, poisoning my once flowing locks. I had always been successful with the ladies and now that would end. At 6ft 1ins and only 11 stones I was too skinny to pull off a shaved head. I would look like a P.O.W. There was no way I would ever be able to pay for surgery, and besides if surgery worked how come there were so many bald, rich men around. The only thing I could do was cut the hair shorter and use a tanning lamp to brown the bald patch, then maybe it wouldn’t be so apparent.
I stuck with this approach for a good six months, until by chance my car broke down and I was forced to take the bus. On the back were several school children. They were throwing things around and generally acting disruptively until, eventually, a pen hit me on the back of the head. I immediately turned round and chastised the group, telling them to sit down and be quiet.
“Shut up baldie!†Came the retort from a laughing little punk aged about 11.
“Yeah, grandad, this is a bus not The Ark†added another.
Granddad! Jesus, I was only 27. But the kids were relentless. Each insult tore another strip from my already emasculated psyche. That was the final straw. Some thing had to be done.
It only cost 20 quid in the end. 20 quid for a four months supply. The bottle said that 4 out of 5 men experienced regrowth within 4 months. Thank God I wasn’t one of the 20 percent that didn’t. Of course I am a slave to this product forever now, no doubt I’d sell my house and contents to feed my new habit, well for as long as they make it anyway. Another downside is that my scalp itches like crazy for about an hour after I make the application. But again that’s a price I am more than prepared to pay, I’d probably keep up the treatment if it turned out to be cancerous. I can feel the confidence surging through each of my newly functioning follicles. The world is my oyster, I feel I have my life back. Some people have pointed out that what I needed was therapy, not hair treatments. They say that my problems are psychological and will only come back in some other way. But they can say what they want, I don’t care because I’VE GOT HAIR!!!!
