Hair today, bald tomorrow

Although I hope Fate understands that by “tomorrow”, I do not refer to the day following today. I can wait - indefinitely - for baldness to descend upon me. No rush.

So, anyway (my favourite white noises while I try to rustle up a few thoughts) – hair. A woman’s crowning glory and all that sort of thing. Well, I’m fast getting to a place where the only glory my head is going to have IS the crown (no, not the one worn by the Queen). While I would much rather have a full head of hair, preferably shiny and straight, I have pretty much made peace with the idea that someday soon, I will end up looking like Persis Khambatta. (And doesn’t THAT reference give away my age! No, don’t ask me who she was. Just google her. Dammit.)

When I was much younger and learning German, there was a woman student in one of the other classes who was pretty, but getting towards nearly bald. She was a vivacious, confident person who took a leading part in organising programmes and so on. Her lack of hair didn't seem to affect her bubbly personality, from what I could see, yet I would wonder how she actually felt about her incipient baldness, and (I cringe to say this) if anybody would marry her. 

Then I discovered that she was married, and I had the temerity to wonder (and I cringe yet again) if her husband actually loved her because, you know, she had no hair! How could anyone love a woman without hair? For that matter, how was she so hair-free and yet confident when I - at that point in time WITH all my hair - was so tongue-tied and shy and lacking in impact?  

I guess I was under the impression that perfection was necessary for love and marraige, and especially that women had to be perfect. I know. Shallow, shallow, shallow. Forgive me, though. I was young and knew nothing of life or love.

Anyway, I guess it's karma, as they say, that my hair has been thinning gradually but steadily over the years. The only good thing about my situation at this point in time is that, 98% of the time, my self-worth is no longer tied up with my hair (so to speak), or with good looks in general. If physical beauty was the only criterion for being loved, wouldn't all the good-lookers in the world be happily in love and married?

That said, don't ask me how I feel about more intelligent/intellectual people.

So, anyhow, while the parting in my hair is nowadays more parting than hair, it's not yet in-yer-face obvious (she thinks). A combover will never be on the cards; I'm much more likely to deliberately go Persis.

Or I might get a wig. If you find me with inky black, thick, glossy, straight hair, you will know rightaway that it is somebody else's.