BE BOLD GO BALD!

Looking back, when I had hair I wasn't that adventurous with its care or presentation. I usually used whatever was available bath-side and simply combed it from a side parting on the left to the right. Yet I kind of felt pretty attached to it and didn't really appreciate it until I discovered that I was losing it.

That terrorizing moment occurred during a night turn in the police when a passing colleague remarked as I sat at the briefing room table, “Kirkey you are losing your thatch!” I felt compelled to immediately register my appreciation of his personal feedback and told him to fuck off! I was around twenty-six years old and, according to my dad, I looked like Freddie Mercury with my compulsory police-issue mustache. 

Nonetheless, this seemingly errant comment played on my mind since my old man was beginning to thin on top too – and when I knocked off duty I did a thorough examination with the aid of two mirrors. Everything appeared good to go on top and my earlier retort appeared wholly reasonable. Indeed, I should have added “wanker.” A month or two later my worst fears were acknowledged when my barber confirmed the earlier prognosis with a not-so-reassuring professional assessment, “You are thinning on top.”