There are two opposing forces in my family when it comes to hair – either you have it, lot’s of it, or you don’t. My father’s family has mops of thick hair, my mother’s side is pretty much the opposite. Yesterday, my father had us up for dinner. A delicious minestrone soup was devoured along with some excellent rolls.
Afterwards (that’s how we say it here in Utah), my step-mother gave me a hair cut. She’s been cutting my hair since I was six, so she knows my head pretty well. It was during said trimming that the comment was made and the question was raised: “You’re getting thinner,” she said.
Normally I would have received such news with much appreciation because I’ve been trying to lose weight. I’m 6’3″ and had allowed myself to approach 270. I’m now down to about 260 and want to keep moving in that direction. However, the comment was not in regards to my weight.
“Oh crap,” I thought, “Have I reached that turning point?” Gray hair (though it has not spread far) first threatened me when I was 22 years old. Now, at 27, am I starting to lose my hair?!
This may not seem like a big deal to some, by this is MY hair. It’s my “one beauty” so to say. I’m not even sure when I first began to adore it. Maybe it was when I was 19-20 and started going to a barber. Just before each cut he would rub his fingers through my hair and exclaim, “I love your hair! It is so thick and soft, it really is a joy to cut.” I’m a little obsessed with it being combed a certain way and with it looking nice. My wife can tell you, if it’s done I really don’t like it touched except to put a rogue strand back in place.
Regardless of when it was, I have become a fan of my hair and would like to keep it the way that it is. My step-mother was quick to assure me that there is no “spot” (spit on the word) but simply that my hair is “thinner than it was in the past.” Oh well, my first given name is after my mother’s father. Since he’s the only grandfather I’ve known in this life, having his head wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Besides, grandpa’s “rug” was really nice and looked real. I didn’t even know what the styrofoam head in his bedroom was for until I was about eight. But that’s another story.