Keith D, contributor
My father is a proud bald man. As a child, he prepared me for the hardships I would come to face as a bald man in America. He taught me comebacks to bald slurs such as “Baldy”, “Chrome-Dome”, and “Mr. Potato Head-lookin’-motherfucker.”
He taught me not to wear a hat, but to hold my bald head high. He taught me how to position myself in photographs, so as to not have light reflecting from my eventual bald spot.
As a rebellious teenager, when I grew out my hair and refused to get it cut, he understood.
“Enjoy your hair now while you still have it!”
My father warned me of false products, promising the impossible. “There is no cure to baldness”, he’d say, “there is only acceptance.” And acceptance is what I learned.
In 2006, I was a teenager approaching his 20s. The same age Dad started to lose his hair. Finally, after 19 years of my father’s preparations, I was ready to accept my inevitable fate. I was ready to be a bald man.
Seven years later, I still have all my hair. Turns out baldness is passed on from your mother’s side and my mom has a full head of hair. Thanks to my father I now have the wit and charm of a bald man without all the unsightly hair loss.