A hairy matter

The other day I was in the university's gymnasium and noticed a picture that shows a wide shot of the basketball court when the team played in the national championship. I am in the picture shooting video of the action on the floor. Of course, what stands out the most to me is HOLY CRAP, I WAS BALDER UP TOP EIGHT YEARS AGO THAN I'M SURE I REALIZED AT THE TIME.

I'm sure it's thinned up there even more in the intervening years. It depresses me to catch a glimpse from my behind because it reinforces what I know but sort of refuse to acknowledge. After all, looking at myself in the mirror from the front I can convince myself that there's more there than there is. OK, it's petty and vain to gripe about losing one's hair, but it still bothers me. (And why do none of my brothers seem to be having this issue?!)

A couple months ago I gave fleeting thought to shaving it all off. That certainly isn't going to fly in these winter months, and from this vantage point, the idea now seems like a bad one best deferred.

What's the hang-up exactly? After all, I just went the last eight days without shaving and growing a salt and pepper beard that didn't look very good but who cares because I don't feel like shaving. (It was removed tonight in anticipation of having a television taping on Tuesday. I'll look that bad in real life and not give it a second thought, but I'm not immortalizing it on a tape.)

The issue is probably that I feel it makes me seem older than I am. Growing up I was always older in attitude than most of my peers even though I was younger than them, so I suppose there's some humor in this hair situation. Still...ugh.