Spring 2001. It was the absolute worst time of my life. And it should have been one of the best times for me. I was 28 years old and had just finished my liberal arts degree at Purchase College just north of New York City. I was managing a video store during the day and doing my music at night playing with bands in and around central new york. Things were going really well. I had always been a shy person–and I basically still am–but I was beginning to come out of my shell socially. I was going out with friends, dating and having fun.
Now I knew my hair had changed a bit over the last few years–the v’s had gotten a little bit deeper and the top was slightly thinner–but I didn’t think too much about it. On some level I knew what was happening but denial is a powerful thing. I wasn’t ready to admit to myself that I was destined to look like my father–a man with a head like glass. I remember catching glimpses of myself in mirrors here and there and thinking that my hair just wasn’t laying right anymore. But I could still disguise it –still maintain the illusion of a full head of hair. I figured I had another five years or so before things got really bad. And by then I would be in my early thirties. I wouldn’t care at that point ( yeah right!)
April 1st 2001. Yes I do remember the exact date. I remember this day like it was yesterday. That day of reckoning (when you finally realize that it’s happening) is a life changing apocalyptic event. One that is forever burned into your psyche–permanently etched into your consciousness. Now for me that realization came when I was doing a gig at a music festival in Marathon NY. I was taking my keyboard out of the car when I saw my reflection in the window. My hair looked funky–funkier than usually. I mean really funky! It was weak and wispy, the recession in the temples looked enormous, and it looked like an island was starting to form in the front. I couldn’t believe it! It wasn’t even me staring back. This has to be some other guy…maybe my balding brother. The denial set it. Car windows are like fun house mirrors–they distort right? I bet that’s all it is. But when I checked things out in the bathroom inside it was the same situation. I messed with it and messed with it to try to get it to look right–all to no avail. It was then that I realized what I guess I had already known: I had crossed that threshold. I now looked like a guy with thinning hair…a balding guy! Full panic mode set it.
Over the next few months I sank into a serious depression–total despondency!. I can remember sitting in my house thinking that it was over. From this point on, my life would never be the same, or so I thought. From now on I would be known as Dave the balding guy. Like somehow it would take over my life and be the thing that defined me over and above everything else. I’d be Dave the balding keyboard player in the bands I played with; Dave the balding manager of the video store; Dave the balding guy of the bunch when my friends and I were out at clubs. And I had hair envy too—big time! All my favorite movie stars: Pacino, DeNiro , Mickey Rourke. They were all guys with beautiful hair—super human hair. I wanted that too–desperately. Life was so unfair. I’d be at the supermarket or mall and I’d see an 85 year old guy with this full head of luxurious hair…better than I had when I was 12 years old. Now if that isn’t a kick in the teeth I don’t know what is. Couldn’t I somehow trade with him I thought. I need that hair more than he does! Damn! The depression was all consuming. I was drinking every night –Johnny Walker black on the rocks. I’d go on these mean two and three day benders just to try to ease the pain and escape form the reality of what was happening. It was a horrific period for me: out in dive bars night after night drinking myself into oblivion, thinking about how I was going to find the guts to go on with my life–or if I even wanted to! I had gotten a speeding ticket during this time and was scheduled to go to court the following month to contest it. I remember thinking: I don’t know if I’ve even going to be around next month! Honestly that is how bad things were.
Well after a few months I began to pull myself out of this downward spiral. I did research and discovered Spencer and The Bald Truth and I learned that it was now possible to successfully treat your hair loss. That gave me hope. I eventually became a part of the show and I’ve been beating this thing for the better part of a decade now. Seven successful years on Propecia ( knock on wood ) and my hair hasn’t changed a bit. Thank God!
So I tell this story to show people just how profoundly we are affected by this disease of the spirit. Hair loss is something that colors every aspect of our lives. But we are lucky to be living in a time where we can do something about it. There are great options available: drug treatment, non surgical hair replacement and hair transplantation. Just be sure to educate yourself in order to choose the option that’s best for you.
Good luck in the fight.
In recent decades, a movement of political correctness has shifted our collective cultural attitude. From racial slurs to sexist overtures, our society has become increasingly aware of how our comments and our actions affect the emotional well-being of others. As a result, the public chooses it’s words more carefully in a show of consideration for other people.
