This is it. You’re in your mid-twenties or some older, lamer age and you’re balding. No one warned you this was coming and you’re terrified. Either your hairline has receded to the point where your forehead looks like a abyssal deep v neck t shirt or you’re sporting a mini tonsure. Kids snicker at you and people insist on calling you sir. From here on out ladies are swiping left and only left. Might as well accept the two seven off suit that Fate has dealt you and start planning for life as a recluse. WRONG! Sure, not everyone gets to bald gracefully, but for a select few, the glamorously predestined, balding is totes posh. Here are the signs that show you’re going from depilated to divine:
- Your aura is fucking resplendent. The sun shines off your polished dome like gamma rays refracted through glitter and cocaine. Hater blockers are prescription when you walk in the room, you’re just that dazzling. You’re more confident than you’ve ever been and it shows. People who have derided you your whole life suddenly respect you. Every time you pass a New Age store, the employees run up and smash their faces against the glass, trying to catch even the slightest glimpse of your aura.
- Your hair loss looks like art. Most people bald like they wipe their ass, front to back. An unfortunate few go back to front. Not you, though! Your shit looks like Banksy: political, witty, and the envy of law enforcement officials everywhere. People stop and stare at your head, engaging in pedantic debates trying to ascertain the precise style of your magnum opus. Is it high concept neo expressionism or classical mosaic? The art world is having a fucking row. If it lasts long enough, you’ll have your own booth at Art Basel next year.
- Your scalp is a panacea. Unbeknownst to you, you’ve been walking around with a miracle on your head. Your scalp rejuvenates better than any eye cream on the market. People who touch your skull are instantly cured of any disease they have: cancer, Aspergers, dry dickness, everything besides baldness really.
- Hats explode when you put them on. Science can’t explain it, but your head has become anti-matter to hats. The second you put one on it explodes in a fiery conflagration, often maiming those around you. Top hats, fedoras, party hats, even yarmulkes don’t stand a chance on your cranium. You’re kind of like Gambit, but only with hats. It’s a tremendous amount of power. Will you use it for good or for evil? Who knows. Just be thankful you have no reason to ever set foot in a Lids again.
- You can telepathically communicate with other bald men. The final stage. Your metamorphosis is almost complete from which you will emerge as the baldest of eagles. You’ve been hearing voices in your head for awhile, strange whispers of unknown emanation. Are you going crazy? No, you’re just going fabulous! You’re becoming more attune to the thought patterns of other baldies. Soon you’ll be able to communicate with them, expressing yourself telepathically. Prepare to be inducted into a secret society on par with the illuminati or the Humanities Department. As your powers grow so will your influence. Your fierceness will be undeniable as you and your clandestine cohorts manipulate the course of world events without harming a hair on your own head.
By Chris Blexrud