“Thsome men are blessthed with beautiful hair, and all othersth are blessthed with beautifully shaped headsth”

Christopher Eubank

…

When I was sixteen, I had an issue that kept me up at night.

I eventually booked myself a GP appointment to get checked out. In I stepped, and was greeted by a kindly woman. “What seems to be the problem?”, she asked.

Sheepishly, uncertainly, fearing to utter my concerns out loud, I replied. “I’m not sure how to say this… but I think I’m going bald”.

A silence ensued, and a bemused, quizzical look crept across her face. “Ahhh…”, she said, as if trying to ascertain if this was a joke. “Is it coming out in the shower, or is there hair on your pillow when you wake up in the morning?”

“Not really”, I shrugged – “I just think there’s less than there used to be”. In response, she smiled, and said my health seems great but that there was nothing she could do for my hair.

…

“It’s fine. If it goes, I’ll just go to Turkey. I’ve heard it’s pretty cheap. And loads of people have done it. Rooney did.”

Men worrying about going bald has to be one of the most wasteful uses of energy and contentment.

“Is it receding? I’m pretty sure it’s receding. Is that a bald patch starting to form at the back? Or is it just the crown of my hair? Did my mum’s dad go bald?”

For three years I worried – on a subliminal level – that I was indeed going to lose my hair someday. What were my anxieties grounded in? Honestly, I’m not sure. I guess a lot of it was about attractiveness.

It’s nice to have hair. It’s a symbol of virility and of youthfulness. You can tousle it, run your hands through it, and, on occasion, pull it. All of these can be lovely sensations.

But the absence of those sensations isn’t going to change your quality of life. And a bald head is not going to make you any less attractive than you already are.

When the first COVID lockdown rolled around, the first thing I did – like millions of men worldwide – was buzz my hair off. Of all the small blessings received during that period, this was up there with the greatest.

In shaving your hair, when you’ve worried about losing it for so long, one discovers a tremendous sense of relief and release. You realise that you are still you, and that your hair was nothing more than an appendage.

Drying yourself after a shower becomes instantaneous. You no longer have to pay for haircuts. And you find a real freedom in not having to worry about the strength of your follicles.

In the years since, I’ve continued to varyingly buzz and shave my head. And I very much enjoy doing so. It is cathartic, resetting, and remarkably fresh-feeling.

Whilst on the Appalachian Trail, I grew my hair out again, and found that it is, indeed, still there. But once your hair starts receding, it doesn’t project the virility and strength that a full-head does. I got back home, clung to what was clinging on, then went back to shaving it off.

I’m glad that there do exist options for people who prefer to have hair – transplants, creams, mousses and all other magical concoctions. But I do feel that this multi-billion dollar industry preys on the anxieties of young men who fear their hair loss.

If you are a man – or a woman, for that matter – who harbours any worry about someday losing their hair, I’d urge you to shave it right away.

It will grow back – that’s what hair does. And if you prefer having it to not, there is nothing lost. But what you will invariably discover is that the presence of hair versus its absence will only lead to one change in your quality of life.

The surrendering of an irrational anxiety, that really is all in your head.

…

Just Shave It.

Be Bold. Be Bald.