admit it, write it

OK. I don’t like going bald. I always thought I was prepared for it. But I think … no … I know… I am ill prepared for it. I don’t like it. Fundamentally I don’t think I am narcissist. But the whole thing is irritating me. I don’t really have a major issue with it but I hate the way it’s looking right now. I have a different problem. Problem 1 – I don’t like a hairstyle that makes others think that I am hiding my balding. So definitely I am not growing the sides of me hair and combing it over the top to cover it. Surely not an option. The other thing is that I am not growing the little hair I have on the top itself to cover for the ones missing. So I can’t grow my hair anything more than a little. Because then it looks to me that I am hiding my bald patches. So that is also not an option. So the only option is to cut it short. But not too short. Because in that case it looks even funnier :). Arrrggghhh. I admit. I don’t know how to deal with this issue.

My dad was bald and all my memories with him are of him almost bald. Atleast my daughter has a good ten years of memories of me not so bald. That’s the good part.

So in photos now days, they tell the truth. They call it like they see it. BALDING. And that is irritating me. The people in office calling me bald or pointing to my bald spot – that’s not so irritating but my photos…. They seem to be irritating me. WHY? I hate this. My rational brian is calling me a narcissist but I hate being called that by anyone…. Including me.

So I was telling Jasmine. The first thing I see on the photos is the bald spot. She told me that its not that prominent. I know sweetie and that’s what’s irritating me more than anything else. The fact that it is not prominent but it is irritating me is irritating me all the more. Arrrgghhhh. Dam it. What to do.

The thing is when reality hits you in the face you know what your true nature is. And I don’t like seeing my true nature on this one at least. Its bloody irritating. I was having enough struggles handling my age related issues. My knees hurt my back hurts, I can’t jump over stuff that I used to. I still am much, much fitter than almost all in office and many in my age group, but those are not my standard. My standards are mine. And for hair – I did not have any standards. I only combed my hair once a day. I hardly looked at it then. The bathroom mirror was just a quick glance and a quick run through on the hair and I was done. For years as a teenager I did not know what to do with my hair. My mom called me a golliwog thanks to my hair. It was a thick unruly mop all over the place. I tried all the barbers I could afford but it was to no avail. No one could really subdue it. Then I got to the twenties and thirties and most of my office life I learnt how to deal with it. I just kept them short and smart. I liked them that way.

But now… the middle of a rapidly declining cycle… arrgghhh I can only express my angst. Jasmine told me to keep a cap on for photos, but that’s not the solution. I have to be happy irrespective of what I look like. Am I so bloody concerned about what I look like? I hate being concerned. Call me bald, I am ok; point to the bald spots, I am ok; call me taklu, crack a joke, I am ok; see myself in the mirror, I am ok; but show a photo of me with a balding patch… and it gets my goose. Why! This is irritating me and this is something I have to solve upfront in my mind. It’s bloody ok. I have to keep telling myself.

Hopefully this phase is transient, hopefully I won’t be as obsessed about it as I am now. Hopefully I can laugh at the photo as I can laugh when someone is joking about it. Hopefully it will all come together and it will be all ok. At least I know I will never wear a wig or going for transplants or catch some quacks. At least I know enough to see myself reacting and not liking what I feel. Admitting is the first step towards changing. I am admitting and I am changing. This is nice.

The big one – I am writing a blog about it. That’s a nice one. It’s always helps to write it or talk it. I like to open up on my blog. My blog has helped me a lot. I was talking to one young student who reads my blog often enough. I was telling her that over the years I don’t know if the blog has shaped me or if I have shaped the blog. We both have changed. Matured over the years, lived with each other, spoken to each other. The blog has helped me more than anything else. Helped me think, rationalize and live my life. It’s been lovely. Surely the big motivation is leaving a legacy that hopefully Jispa will treasure, but importantly it’s helping me shape my present. And this is what I treasure.