First time I noticed I was losing my hair happened two years after I graduated high school.
It was the spring of 1985. The Terminator with Arnold Schwarzenegger was still a big hit.
I’d been lifting weights (like Arnold), so I decided I wanted a flat top buzz-cut (like Arnold’s).
Paid my barber Denny to give me the “I’ll be back” look.
Denny delivered. My new crew cut looked bad ass. Until I noticed “the gaps.”
When I tilted my head forward in front of the mirror, there should have been an even crop of brown fuzz across my frontal lobe. Instead, there were two noticeable patches of pale scalp shining through.
It looked like the front of my haircut was wearing a pair white headphones.
Those became the first two visible “footprints” of my receding hairline journey. From that moment forward, follicle by follicle, my thick, youthful hair began to betray me as that pair of bald spots took the road less traveled, backwards.
You could notice them from every angle.
Didn’t matter which way I brushed or combed or moussed or sprayed or “feathered” my remaining hair, those bald patches peeked through. I saw them in the reflections of the store windows I’d pass. They were in every photo and video of me. Mirrors and breezy days became my mortal enemies. Eventually another patch began to emerge on the crown of my head giving my “flesh headphones” a matching “skin-colored yarmulke” for companionship.
Like a lot of men who are losing their hair tend to do, I began expanding my collection of hats.
Still wear most of them.
To be fair, I wasn’t losing my hair – I knew exactly where it landed.
Strands of my hair were on the pillow every morning.
Tufts of it were stuck in my hairbrush. During every shower my hair fell out and formed a wet hairy donut in the drain. My fallen hairs clung to my sweaters and hoodies and to my car’s cloth headrest and to the sofa. There were always hairs on the bathroom counter after I brushed it. Some of my hair would intertwine around my fingers whenever I used them as a casual comb. My hairs ended up on all the floors and carpets of my home, which I’d notice every time I swept and vacuumed.
Certain lighting and weather conditions made hiding my hair loss even more challenging.
I learned not to stand in front of bright lights or the window or anywhere in the sun. Or in the wind, or rain, or snow. Swimming was now off limits as were water fights and saunas. So was bending over too far while shooting pool or tying my shoes or reading a book.
My hair was thick, so it took some time for it to complete its inevitable retreat. During that time I began to obsess over my hair loss 24/7 because every day I’d notice a little more of it missing.
My pointy head made my hair loss look like an epiglottis.
I was frustrated and furious. I couldn’t control this awful thing that was happening to me, slowly robbing me of my youthful looks. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t deserve to be publicly humiliated like this. Why me?
Then panic set in.
Being in show business made handling my hair loss even more of a priority.
I felt desperate, so I made the phone call nobody wants to make.
“Thanks for calling the HairClub, how may I help you?”
As a kid, I once swore that if I ever lost my hair, I would first get a hairpiece.
Then, if I didn’t like it, I’d shave it all off.
In the summer of 1994 in Chicago, I enacted the first part of that plan.
I swallowed my pride and called the HairClub (for Men). If you’ve ever watched a HairClub commercial, then you probably still have no clue how they work their magic.
Trust me, that’s on purpose.
Because most of us would never join if they came right out and admitted how their money suck works.
To discover the truth, I had to schedule a consultation with one of their Hair Recovery Specialists who walked me through their multi-step process.
As it turned out, I was wrong – they don’t own a secret device that zaps your head and restarts your natural hair growth.
Instead the HairClub has a far simpler plan – they’ve merely updated the oldest trick in the book.
How HairClub Toupees Are Measured.
My initial HairClub consultation was quick since I’d already decided to move forward.
I used my credit card to pay the $1,000 deposit. Then I was escorted into one of several back rooms.
It was a combination dentist office and barber shop (including a jar filled with blue liquid and combs) along with a comfortable leather recliner for me to lay back in.
A Hair Recovery Technician proceeded to take an accurate measurement of my head.
The tech marked out millions of data points on my skull using a cutting edge electronic pen that was wired into her laptop.
Kidding.
This was 1994. She used saran wrap and scotch tape.
Not kidding.
First she tightly encased the top of my head with plastic cling wrap the way you would the leftover Easter ham. Round and round it went. Then she scotch-taped it all into place until it became a thin, removable helmet. Later, they would use the dimensions from that saran-wrap-and-tape-skullcap to accurately build a form-fitting base for my toupee.
Next they clipped off a sample of my hair in order to perfectly match its color, thickness, and texture.
That’s when I found out the HairClub uses real human hair.
Which means somebody somewhere in the world with identical hair to mine (who’s probably broke and starving) was paid to farm out their locks. Just for me.
My humanitarian side felt bad for poor starving Bob, or whatever his name is. A grown man forced to whore out his hair for some rich American.
But the balding part of me said, “F–k Bob, he’s getting paid, plus his hair will grow back, unlike mine. Give me every inch of what Bob’s got. His majesty wants his bangs back.”
It took a long month for the HairClub to build my toupee. During that time I dreamt of the many ways those thick new locks would solve all my troubles. Soon there’d be no more social insecurity due to my humiliating baldness.
When that magical phone call finally came, I rushed over to my HairClub location.
How HairClub Toupees Are Installed
As I relaxed in the leather recliner again, my Hair Replacement Technician pulled my new hairpiece out of its Ziplock bag. She held Bob’s wild mane of hair over her fist like a ventriloquism dummy.
Cheers to Bob, I thought, his hair looked identical to mine.
Next, the technician shaved the hair off the top of my head until I looked like a monk who played hockey.
Then he squirted glue on my smooth skull and laid the hairpiece in place. He used the toupee’s thin hidden clips to attach it to the top edge of my real hair underneath.
A hair stylist went to work on my new locks.
She brushed and snipped it until it all blended together perfectly. To her credit she never snickered or giggled or rolled her eyes.
Before she would let me look in the mirror, though, she sprayed my toupee down with some mystery chemical. She claimed only the HairClub made this magical elixir that gives fake hair its real-hair glimmer. My first bottle came with the initial package, she told me, but then I’d have to buy a new bottle every month for around thirty dollars.
And God help me if I should ever run out of that expensive toupee sauce.
When I first saw myself in the mirror with that full head of hair, I had to catch my breath because the results were fantastic. What a glorious head of thick hair I had now, like if Fabio were Irish. Thick bangs covered my flesh headphones and there was nothing but brunette where my skin-colored yarmulke used to live.
She told me I’d have to return there every four weeks to have my wig tightened and trimmed for about thirty dollars each visit plus tip.
I was so excited to try out my new “do” in the real world that it didn’t occur to me that from then on I’d be covering an expensive fake hair monthly nut.
My Toupee Was a Blatant Lie I Had to Tell the World Daily.
Some men can wear permanent fake hair and not think twice about it.
It took me less than a week to figure out that a toupee was not for me.
My unrealistic goal from the start was for nobody to discover my wig. To me, that beat the alternative, which was to admit it was fake and face a lifetime of cruel roasts from all my smart ass comedy friends.
Except keeping that humiliating secret made me nervous 24/7. I lived in constant fear of being discovered. Hiding that wig became all I could think about. I already suffered from severe social anxiety, and now I was adding catagelophobia to the mix. (That’s the fear of being ridiculed. Yes, I Googled it.)
There were multiple red flags that signaled to me that sporting a rug would be impossible.
Red Flag #1: Though nobody figured out I was wearing a wig, everybody definitely noticed how great my hair suddenly looked. That brought far too much attention to my protected secret which made me nervous all the time I was in public.
Red Flag #2: On stage, I became terrified that the bright spot lights would reveal my shameful truth. And that a heckler would notice and point it out. That weighed heavily on me during my sets, and I began to not enjoy performing with all that fake hair.
Red Flag #3: With all that new hair, more women were suddenly paying attention to me. In one case I ended up bedding an attractive audience member. As we explored each other’s young bodies, she kept wanting to run her fingers through my glorious hair. I had to keep pushing her hand away like a teen virgin protecting her untouched rack.
I actually started wearing baseball caps again.
No thanks.
The Day I Shaved My Head and Said Goodbye, Toupee
That same week after I got the wig, I was booked to do a comedy road trip to a club in Iowa.
I was opening for The Last Hippy in America Jim Wiggins. He never drives, so it became my job to chauffer the two of us from Chicago to Des Moines.
“Thanks for the ride, son,” Jim said, “and I call you son because . . . who knows.”
We arrived at our Iowa hotel at 5:00 pm. Our show would begin three hours later.
The second I got to my hotel room I ripped that toupee off my head.
Then I used my beard trimmer to shave off the rest of my hair, not an easy task with that subpar equipment. By showtime it was almost done so I threw a baseball cap on what was left.
On my way to the showroom I passed Jimmy Wiggins in the hotel hallway.
“Good evening, sir,” Jimmy said as he walked by. He didn’t recognize me without Bob on my head.
I did my act with my hat on. When I finally removed it and showed the audience what I’d done, they gasped and laughed and clapped at how brave (and silly) I’d been.
After the show, Jimmy laughed and said, “Ya got me, son.”
That next morning when I woke up in my hotel room, for the first moment I’d forgotten that I’d shaved my head.
Then I saw it in the mirror and cracked a huge smile.
I pumped my fist in the air and did a little happy dance at the foot of the bed.
All the stress from losing my hair had been lifted from me.
Yes, I looked like an egg-headed goof. But I felt a tremendous sense of relief for the first time since I’d noticed those two little bald patches forming.
“Nicely done,” I told the handsome bald man reflecting back at me. “There’s no going back now.”
How I Got Out of Paying the Balance I Still Owed on my Toupee
My freshly shaved head might have just solved my hair loss problem, but the fact remained that I still owed the HairClub another $800 to pay off the rest of that wig.
I decided instead I would refuse to pay the balance, but for that I needed to concoct a story that would justify my decision.
You know, a lie.
The Monday after my Des Moines gig I drove to the HairClub location.
I walked into their jam packed waiting room holding my lifeless wig in front of me like a dead squirrel.
The HairClub receptionist saw me, gasped, and then immediately sent me to a hidden office where a concerned consultant asked me what on earth had happened.
“My worst nightmare,” I lied, blatantly making up an $800 falsity. “I was doing a comedy show in Iowa and someone in one of my audiences noticed my wig and called it out.”
“Oh, no,” she said.
“Oh, yes,” I fibbed. “I was publicly humiliated. It was horrible. I refuse to go through that again.”
“I’m so sorry. What would you like to do now?”
“This,” I said and tossed the wig down on her desk. “I won’t pay the balance I owe because I am totally unhappy with your product.”
I prepared to threaten a lawsuit, however, the HairClub consultant could not have been sweeter.
“Of course, my dear,” she said as she sealed up Bob’s hair in a large Ziploc bag. “Tell you what. We’ll keep it on file in case you ever change your mind.”
“Not a chance,” I told her over my shoulder. “I will never go through that hell again.”
And . . . scene.
The Balding Truth
I’m not ashamed to admit that I tried out a toupee for a week, but I am a little embarrassed that I thought I could keep it a secret. And that I lied to save $800.
Comedians are supposed to tell uncomfortable truths, and I almost got stuck living an uncomfortable lie.
Instead, I shave my head weekly.
My wife and two children and most of my friends have never seen me with hair, only in photos.
Yes, I wish I still had bangs and thick hair that I could part in the middle and feather back, but my life has been just fine without them.
Somehow I still met and married a beautiful woman who loves me without any locks.
However, sometimes I catch myself staring with envy at men with full heads of hair the same way I imagine some flat-chested women must stare at big boobs.
Wanting. Wishing. Wallowing.
The only wigs I wear now are for laughs.
Then afterwards I take them off and return to my almost natural state of baldness.
By now Bob has probably regrown his fertile crop at least a dozen times.
Meanwhile his majesty’s bangs remain MIA forever.
I’m okay with that.
But only because I have to be.
Unlike poor lucky, starving to death Bob.
Figuring out why a joke didn’t work and trying again is what makes you funnier.
This Amazon bestseller teaches you how to create laughs like a pro.
Get the free FUNNY MUSCLE Newsletter:
Plus you’ll also get…
- Top-10 Mistakes Unfunny People Make – a strong Funny Muscle avoids the list.
- 5 Surefire Ways to Make Your Next Speech Funnier – get laughs instead of yawns.
- 3 Humor Heightening Devices – pro comics use these to get bigger laughs.
Just ‘click’ and enter a valid email address (then confirm it!) and you’ll get the free newsletter and your funny giveaways.
Then get ready to enjoy some laughs!
This really answered my problem, thank you!