A life lived well is a life that must consolidate the sadder side of existence. Loss. Heartbreak. Michael Bay.
But of all the various losses a man can suffer, there is none so glaringly obvious as the loss of his hair. For some, the hand of time comes equip with a pair of shears, and the crowning glory of a dashing young blade may soon give way to the pensive, moon-like dome of mortality.
As the self-elected guardians of all aspects of manhood, we here at Man Cave Daily want to extend a hand to those who are waking up to a pillow that’s a little fluffier than it was the night before, and say “Come now, baldy, do not weep, for we will guide you through The Five Stages of Hair Loss.”
Stage 1: Denial
Whatever age you start losing your hair at, your first reaction to finding what appears to be a tribble lodged in your shower drain will likely be one of denial.
“Maybe I’m simply shedding my winter coat,” you might say, “so that it will grow in sleek and lustrous for the Spring.” Then you will hum very loudly to drown out your inner shrieking.
Lying to oneself about an area of your head that you can’t see without a hand mirror and a strained neck might be easy, but those around you will be quick to bring down some crashing truths.
“Getting a little thin on top there, bucko,” they’ll chortle through their, awful, awful faces. “You ought to fire your barber!” And you’ll laugh through a smile that is a grimace, and you’ll fantasize about murdering them with poison, and before you know it you’ve blundered into Stage 2 of hair loss…
Stage 2: Resentment
Why does Garry get to keep his hair? That guy wears a stetson with a feather in it, and if there were any justice in the world Garry would be the one to have a crop circle suddenly appear in the middle of his head, but no– Garry gets to keep his hair as well as ruining hats for everybody.
And you can’t even watch the TV anymore without some smug a$$%0!3 waving his Sampson-like locks at you. Why do you even need that much hair? What are you, growing your own crash helmet? Stop hogging all the hair!
Stage 3: Bargaining
It is at this time that desperation sets in, and with so many people out there looking to profit from your insecurity, you wont have to look far to find some kind of foul-smelling snakeoil mousse. It wont be long before you’re cramming dubious medicines into your mouth, smearing yourself with something that may or may not be cat feces, and chasing a chicken around in a desperate bid to sacrifice if to a pagan god because you read an article on the internet that was clearly penned by an idiot but you’re too desperate to care.
Eventually you will start to grow hair, but that hair will be on the palms of your hands, and you’ll have a hard time getting your money back from Legitomate Haire Solutionz Inc.
Stage 4: Depression
For those who have to deal with hair loss, it’s sort of like having an egg timer on your head. No, not because of any crass comparisons between your head and an egg– that would be childish and hilarious. But because, like the leaves of autumn, your falling hair is a reminder of the season of death.
Death. With its hollow eyes and leering grin, laughing at the sick, sick joke that is your life, the punchline now being that you won’t ever be able to do an effective Axl Rose impersonation ever again. All is blackness and decay and the only thing you have to look forward to is the laughter of the neighborhood children as they take turns making up cruel nicknames for you.
It is at this time you consider jacking it all in to become a monk, because then people sort of expect you to be bald, and with any luck you can be one of those kung-fu monks and spend the rest of your days smashing yourself in the wang with a concrete block. I bet chicks dig that. Not as much as they dig a full head of hair but, you know…it’s something, I guess.
Stage 5: Acceptance
And then one day you wake up, buy a pair of clippers, and realize that, hey, baldness isn’t so bad! Most of the best action heroes are bald, right? And, hey, Picard right? If Picard can take on everything space has to throw at him without resorting to a wig, then so can you. But not in space. You’re like the Picard of Waffle House. Waffles? Make it so!
Actually this is kind of neat. You feel clean, and tidy, and…now that you think about it, wasn’t your hair kind of goofy? Can you even remember your hair? No. That hair belonged to a different man, a man you remember fondly, but will only ever see in photographs. You have moved on, as all things in life must, and you have done so with all the sleek grace of a classically trained thespian captaining a spaceship.
And besides, you can always save up for one of those butt hair transplants, right? They have those don’t they? Where they put your butt hair into your scalp? Start growing out that butt hair, chrome dome, there’s hope for us yet!