I was thinking the other day, what if women, not men, turned naturally bald when they got older?
It’s a common appearance among men to lose their hair, some even in their early 20s.
But what if that wasn’t the case and men usually never turned bald?
But women did?
And I don’t mean Sinead O’Connor bald.
That’s shaved, thank you very much.
Besides, on this pretty face anything goes.
Even a pink Mini Mouse bow in the middle of her forehead.
I wondered how women would react if it was common for them to start losing their hair in their early 20s or 30s or 40s.
How would they have tackled naturally occurring baldness?
What would they come up with as an alternative?
Yes, wigs, but not many men wear wigs.
So, why would all women take on wigs.
Anything more original?
Some men, for example, do incredible twists and manoeuvres to hide their bald scalps.
But mainly – amusing!
Imagine scenario: 52-year-old director of high-school canteen.
Name – people know him by surname. Something like Mr. Hippkis or there’s a ‘t’ somewhere in it? Not sure.
Bald since early 30s.
Actually, Mr. Hippkis is semi-bald.
Married with two children.
His wife works as a secretary to a deputy director of packaging factory.
His two children – a boy and a girl – are grown up and living in another city, working as accountants.
So, Mr. Hippkis would have five hairs on his head, which originate somewhere from a patch of land under his left ear.
He would have grown these five hairs so long that they’d look kind of thin and exhausted – so exhausted that they don’t even have split ends.
Their job – of the five hairs that is – would be crawling all the way from their home under the left year to the other side of the globe to the right ear with the sole objective to keep the bald scalp covered all day long.
So, every morning, when Mr. Hippkis wakes up, he finds that the five hairs have gone messy and curled up like rusty wire; cuddled and still asleep like little worms in their little nests under the earlobe.
After the teeth brushing and the shaving, come the heavy lifting of the five dear hairs.
It’s a complex operation and it involves several cosmetic procedures.
They (the five hairs) get their morning stretch and finally take their daily position like soldiers in the army, lined up for an early morning march. Their job is to march all the way to the other side of the yard and cover the miserable bare patch along the way – there, where everybody will stare throughout the whole day.
Or so Mr. Hippkis would think.
I feel for Mr. Hippkis.
And for the naturally bald people.
For the naturally bald people who try to hide their baldness.
Especially those little old guys wearing cheap, polyester toupees that flap against the wind and make you giggle as you pass them by leaving you with all but one question “why, why, why”.
And I think it would have been harder if women had to fight naturally occurring baldness and have a shaky and insecure relationship with five hairs on their heads – sick worried that they may leave them any moment.
I think men got the baldness after all, and not women, just to make even for all the childbirth pain that women go through. And if you’re a Nigerian there are even great chances to die from childbirth.
If you’re smart enough there are so many ways to get on with your baldness.
Here are three suggestions:
1. Work on your character! If you are a nasty prick or a dumb boring little person, it’s highly likely that people will only see your bald head. If you’re nasty, they’ll make fun of your baldness and the complex geometries you’re designing on your bald course. If you’re boring, chances are, people won’t even remember your name, they’ll just call you “the bald guy”.
2. Shave it, brave it, and pick a sport (think lovely Andre Agassi!) or a subject that you’re enthusiastic about. Become an expert in it and let people know you for that, not for your baldness.
3. Work on your humour (think Bruce Willis); or, on your good deeds (think the 14th Dalai Lama); or, on your muscles (like Vin Diesel or Jason Statham, although you might need a hot model to go with, too).
The options are endless.
That’s what I’d teach my kids.
Not, why women don’t turn naturally bald.
But how [my] kids can use their weaknesses, even if it’s baldness, to their advantage.
Baldness is like the pot without the lid.
The stew is still in it.
The question is what it tastes like and how nutritious it is.