- Reaction score
- 148
My Story:
Early years: My dad was Norwood 5 at 27 years old. He owned a small business and his apparent strategy to male pattern baldness was to basically ignore it. Tight horseshoe. What if he'd worked at IBM? Would it have mattered back then? Would he have been stuck in mid-management for life? But he didnt, and he never "projected" having had to cross such a path.
Teen: I had a big chad hair thing going on. My father always wanted me to wear my hair short--he was old school, it was f** territory to wear it long. At family functions and social events there was always that sadistic perv that had to make a comment to me. "you will probably end up like your dad"! That seemed so far in the future as to not really be possible.
College: Started to thin out big-time at 19. But it was so damn thick to start with that nobody noticed the diffusion. Me? Well, sweating bullets, mostly because i greatly feared walking campus bald. "JUST GET ME TO GRADUATION" i pleaded. I imagined happily moving, starting over, dropping out of life, switching from white collar to blue collar--ANYTHING-- to just make it college graduation without a giant cue-ball. That was all i asked. Miraculously, i was a slower diffuser and i survived.-
Age 24. Sitting at the dining table at my grandmothers. The sunlight came through the windows. My father exclaimed "YOURE GOING BALD!"
There was never the slightest empathy or understanding for my balding, trying to prevent it, trying to comb it over, or avoiding social situations.
Age 28. He began his relentless hatred of my combovers. In actuality, i was till able to "COMB OVER" some bit of hair, and in my mind, this 9 year respite from "CUE BALL" was a victory of sorts.
Age 30. Finally shaved my head for the first time. "YOUR MOTHER AND I PREFER THIS LOOK" is all he said. And me being so selfish, I never imagined my own parents embarassment at me having passed on this genetics. Certainly they experienced their own pain to see me struggle, or perhaps, to show this struggle to the world. A sign of weakness.
Age 33. When i struggled in the dating realm and in interviewing for advanced sales jobs he never one time acknowledged that the source of my angst had to do with baldness. He simply couldnt relate. HIs generation didnt believe in actual harassment, victimology, sexual politics, or anything else.
Every memory I have of my father and "male pattern baldness" is one of personal shame for being weaker than him in not "just shaving it bro".
Early years: My dad was Norwood 5 at 27 years old. He owned a small business and his apparent strategy to male pattern baldness was to basically ignore it. Tight horseshoe. What if he'd worked at IBM? Would it have mattered back then? Would he have been stuck in mid-management for life? But he didnt, and he never "projected" having had to cross such a path.
Teen: I had a big chad hair thing going on. My father always wanted me to wear my hair short--he was old school, it was f** territory to wear it long. At family functions and social events there was always that sadistic perv that had to make a comment to me. "you will probably end up like your dad"! That seemed so far in the future as to not really be possible.
College: Started to thin out big-time at 19. But it was so damn thick to start with that nobody noticed the diffusion. Me? Well, sweating bullets, mostly because i greatly feared walking campus bald. "JUST GET ME TO GRADUATION" i pleaded. I imagined happily moving, starting over, dropping out of life, switching from white collar to blue collar--ANYTHING-- to just make it college graduation without a giant cue-ball. That was all i asked. Miraculously, i was a slower diffuser and i survived.-
Age 24. Sitting at the dining table at my grandmothers. The sunlight came through the windows. My father exclaimed "YOURE GOING BALD!"
There was never the slightest empathy or understanding for my balding, trying to prevent it, trying to comb it over, or avoiding social situations.
Age 28. He began his relentless hatred of my combovers. In actuality, i was till able to "COMB OVER" some bit of hair, and in my mind, this 9 year respite from "CUE BALL" was a victory of sorts.
Age 30. Finally shaved my head for the first time. "YOUR MOTHER AND I PREFER THIS LOOK" is all he said. And me being so selfish, I never imagined my own parents embarassment at me having passed on this genetics. Certainly they experienced their own pain to see me struggle, or perhaps, to show this struggle to the world. A sign of weakness.
Age 33. When i struggled in the dating realm and in interviewing for advanced sales jobs he never one time acknowledged that the source of my angst had to do with baldness. He simply couldnt relate. HIs generation didnt believe in actual harassment, victimology, sexual politics, or anything else.
Every memory I have of my father and "male pattern baldness" is one of personal shame for being weaker than him in not "just shaving it bro".
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