Growing up, I had a super thick head of hair with two cowlicks. My hair would naturally part in the middle (bum part) and it was very easy to make it look neat and nice. I was in grade 6 when I was finally allowed to run some gel through it to spike it up – which looked fricken rad with my fingerless gloves. By year 8 or 9 I had progressed to an undercut, after year 12 I think I let it go to my shoulders. I dyed it for the first time at 19 and for my 21st, had little dreadlocks put in – which required having my relatively short hair permed first.
The mini-dreads lasted two weeks before they gave me the shits so I unpicked them. I was left with hair resembling Christopher ‘Kid’ Reid circa 1987 – which I promptly shaved clean off. I don’t think my hair ever truly recovered from that ordeal, and honestly, I can’t blame it.
The David Beckham style ‘fauxhawk’ kicked the baldness can down the road for me for a few years. By the age of 28, the writing was writ large on the wall but I had just got engaged and stupidly wanted to have hair in my wedding photos.
Now I look back on photos of me then and wish I had have been braver. I am blessed with a larger than average melon, but it shaves down ok and it’s so much easier to manage than a shitty, soon-to-be-Friar-Tuck hairstyle.
I’m so used to it now that old photos of me with hair look weird. I honestly feel like I’m wearing a wig – even though I know it was my old hair.
The point is, if you’re worried about taking the plunge, that’s totally normal. But put yourself in future you’s shoes. You’d be telling yourself to bite the bullet and make a clean getaway from your balding self asap.