farmdoc's blog post number 221

Male-pattern baldness runs in my family. Not of billiard ball severity, mind you, but bad enough. Why bad? Is baldness bad? No, of course not. Though society’s normative stereotyping suggests badness. Bald equals bad. Hence the wig industry. I’ve seen men wearing wigs looking like rugs. Or raccoons. Or possum. Artificial and obvious. The antithesis of the intended effect. Like football umpires – if they’re obtrusive, they’re not doing their job well. As a young man, I was terrified my genotype would send me bald early. I wasn’t worried by the destination, but rather the journey. How to deal with follicular recession: Ignore? Comb over? Wig? Transplant? In the wash-up, this decision analysis was unnecessary. Because my hair remained. At least enough of it did that I wasn’t perturbed. But in recent years, the top of my head has gradually become a sunburn target, and my temples bit-by-bit more air-conditioned. But I’m not bothered. Not at all. Because now it’s age-appropriate. Indeed I think men my age with a full head of hair look odd. (By the way, have you noticed how few alcoholic men are bald.) Since 1995 Sweetheart Vivienne has been cutting my hair with electric clippers – set on either number one or two depending on my mood or the weather. So Michael Bachelard’s recent article in the Age is right up my alley.