Male Baldness

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I know I'm one of the guys when I walk into a bank or other office, the folks there dim the lights because of the extra glare coming from my bald head.

We balding men seem to get most of the flack from fellows with hair like Dick Clark. We shrug those remarks off because deep down we know that hair is a water plant. It is most prolific on containers of stagnant swamp water.

We also know that our obviously expanding brain has but limited room to grow. When endowed with this extra capacity, little tentacles of swamp hair are soon replaced with hair-free skin. The sun's radiance activates the additional brain power that otherwise would be obstructed by useless hair.

I'm not surprised by men shaving their head; anything to be perceived as wise is the desire of such men.

Before I realized the God given gift of this additional and exalted wisdom, I had a mindset to fool the public by growing a comb-over. It took years to achieve the right length.

The trouble was, I had to walk backward to church because of the prevailing wind. To walk forward, like all other folks, caused my comb-over to stand erect. Not only did it feel like I had raised a sail on my head, but when it fluttered I wished it was the American flag and not a bunch of hair soaked with "A little dab will do you."

When that experiment wore off, I considered a toupee. I had prepared myself for the need of frequent shampooing. But the thought of the thing falling off every time I tied my shoes had me thinking. To glue the thing to my skull with denture paste didn't do much for my macho ego. Finally the notion to cover the growing wisdom and masculinity soon left.

As I grew older, I was sorry I had never before read the ancient documents which provided answers to solving the "hair or no hair" dilemma. Had I known in my late twenties to let my eyebrows grow, I would have been all set by now at age seventy-two. I could have sported a convertible top by now. An instant option to have the top up, or have it down.

Take heed young man, plan now for the option. Who knows, there may still be a traveling circus around when you get to be seventy-two for you to rake in a few extra coins.

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