In Praise of the Chrome Dome
I was thinking yesterday: I may actually be getting balder, if that’s possible. During the 10 seconds or so that I looked at myself in the mirror (I really don’t have the patience to look at this mug any longer than that), I thought to myself, “There are fewer hairs up there. ”
I don’t know, maybe my ears are just getting bigger, but it seems like I’m missing a few! Understand, when you have as few hairs as I do, you have a personal relationship with each one. I think Bob and Jeff have gone missing.
I have no idea why I’m telling you all of this. Just thinking with my keyboard, I guess!
Fortunately, I’ve never really been a hair worshipper, which is a good thing since I grew up in the 60s when long hair was the cool thing. It seems like I’ve been bald since I was 12.
When it started to fall, I calmly bowed to the inevitable forces of nature and began telling my own jokes about saving money on shampoo. I always told Robin that I was bald because grass won’t grow on a busy street. Not to be outdone, she replied, “Yeah right, and it won’t come up through concrete either!” Oh well, she got me there. Maybe I’m just taller than my hair!
I don’t mind when people in my immediate vicinity complain that they are suffering from the equivalent of “snow blindness” due to the intense glare my bald head radiates. And I’ve never once thought about turning to baldness camouflage. Some toupees look like a cat on top of the guy’s head, and I would just feel creepy walking around like that. I mean, you eventually have to take it off, and that would be a little hard to explain. I might as well tape a sign to my forehead that reads: Bait and switch! Object is shinier than it appears!
And some of the permanent solutions just seem like they have got to hurt! I am convinced that hair plugs, which probably involves yanking divots out of your armpits and putting them on top of your head, would be the surgical equivalent of water-boarding. Plus, I’m so used to being bald, I think if I suddenly started growing hair, I would probably look like one of those Chia pets.
People have said to me, “Come on, Dr. Phil, You’re just in denial. Don’t you wish you could, just once, run your hands through your hair?” The answer is, I never think about it. If I had always had hair, I might miss it, but I wouldn’t really change it now if I could. A wise man once said, find a way to embrace what most people might consider to be one of your weaknesses, and you are ahead of the game. Well, I embraced baldness. I decided a long time ago that there is a certain nobility in a great expanse of scalp, and that’s all there is to it.
And now, my baldness has become a trademark. I remember when I wrote my first book and Oprah was talking about it on her show. She said, “It’s easy to find it at the bookstore. It’s got Phil’s big old bald head on the cover.” I grinned and thought, “Well, there you go!”
What physical or emotional “flaw” have you learned to embrace? I’d love to hear from you.