"God made a lot of good heads, and the ones he messed up, he covered with hair." These words from my father ring in my ears as I greet the changing of the seasons by shaving my head. As was the case with my father, I am follically challenged. I won't be revealing any secret dents or creases in my skull with this operation. What hair I continue to grow tends to hang politely just above my ears and the back of my head. There are a few hearty strands that insist on continuing to erupt on the top of my head, but the top of my head has been an effective hair void since my early twenties.
I learned early on to accept bald as a state of being early on. It was my father's insistence that comb-overs were verboten, and toupees were just another way to call attention to what was really going on underneath. I learned to embrace my hair loss as a college student, since a receding hairline left little doubt as to just who was and who was not over twenty-one - I haven't been asked for an I.D. since I was eighteen. Then there's all that other hooey about baldness and virility. I'm not sure I ever got the connection, unless it's simply that my hormones can be kept busy doing anything but growing hair.
So, why am I bothering to shear what little hair I do have off? It used to be only on the equinoxes: Summer and Winter. Living in California, I didn't see the need for extra fuzz on my head in either season. In between, I was able to let my freak flag fly - at least that which formed a ring around the top of my head. After about four months, I tended to take on a resemblance to Reverend Jim from "Taxi." With this in mind, it was determined by those who know and love me best (or at least those who end up looking at my head more than anyone else), that going to a quarterly grooming schedule. Beyond the aesthetics, there is always a profound catharsis for me in having a shaved head. I feel unfettered and free, and not just from the hair. I'm more aerodynamic. I am more time-efficient and cost-effective - my showers use less water and require no shampoo. So, welcome Fall, I say and welcome back to my bare scalp.