Sunday, May 9, 2010

Big, bad and bald

You know what I've been thinking a lot about lately? Male pattern baldness.

I blame Anasatan, as I blame her for most things: my shyness when she proclaimed in front of my Grade 7 crush that she would not, could not pull his track pants down so I could get a look at his penis. I digress, but yes she did that. I was mortified. I was also disappointed I didn't get to see said package.

Anypenisways, I was over at her house loving up my little mugwump Christopher, socializing with her and her other half when I commented on the newly coloured state of my hair. It was the night after the potential job interview and in a step to putting my best foot forward, I thought that covering my natural highlights would give me a boost.  I had run across to the local Shopper's Drug Mart to procure me some youth-inducing colouring agent and had stolen an hour of probably much-needed REM sleep so I could look daisy-fresh, and wondered what my state of affairs would be if a) Shopper's had run out of my colour; and b) what if we didn't have the colour fusion technology available at all. No colour prisms, no tonal clarity, no washing that grey (um, I mean natural highlights) out of our hair. My answer was not the most popular.

"If I had to I would pluck every grey hair out of my head," I had answered. "You'd be F-ing bald," Anasatan reminded me. Okay, it's time to spill secrets here, as if I haven't already done enough of that. I have had grey hair since the age of 18. My first year in college, the boy I was crushing on sat in News Writing class and pointed out a long, shiny strand. Again, mortified. It didn't take much, really. Ever since, new crops continue to pop up and now it seems that wherever I decide to part my hair, new greys will form. I'm running out of parting options unless I move to the back of my head, which has yet to see a sprout. Lift my bangs on the left and it's night and day. Night on the top, day underneath and it's not fair.

Shorter hair (I had a pixie cut for five years) or longer (it took me a year and a half to grow out), I still have grey. And, if I pick them all out, I'll be bald or at least have to try out the whole Comb Over King concept only it would be Comb Over Queen instead of Scribe. And, no doubt Anasatan will pick up on that one too and tease me to no end until I would stab her with a makeshift shiv whittled out of her long-necked duck, Motherfucker.

And then I would be bald, up on murder charges and have to uphold my duties as Comb Over Queen of Cell Block C. I can't win.


  1. You couldn't kill me, 'cause I just won't die! Heaven doesn't want me, and Hell is afraid I'll take over! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!

  2. Everyone has a friend they can't decide if they want to hug or stab. At least, if they are lucky they do.

  3. I count myself as lucky, Libby. I wouldn't want to see Anasatan's true evil side! I'm just glad she counts me as a friend!