My Son's Tweezers

My son, Tony, has a self taught talent for cutting hair. At sixteen, Tony began cutting his own hair to camouflage a receding hairline. He was mortified at the thought of baldness. When friends found out Tony did his own cutting and styling they asked him to cut their hair as well. As Tony’s skill and confidence grew he offered to cut his father’s hair, and has been doing so ever since.

The last time Tony cut the little Greek’s hair I joked: “Hey Tone…will you cut my hair too?”
“Sure, Mom, it will only take a minute,” he quipped.
“Yeah, right! First you have to find a hair to cut.”
“What, you don’t think I can find one little hair?”
“Tony. I haven’t a hair anywhere on my whole body. Yes I’ll bet you can’t find one.”
“How much?”
“I bet you $5,000 you can’t find a hair on my head.”
“Oh, I’ll find one alright.”

Tony’s eyes twinkled and I remembered too late never to bet my son he can’t do something. Even something I’m five thousand percent sure of. He turned back to the task of cutting his father’s hair and I returned to my conversation with his fiancée.

Do you know that feeling that comes on suddenly when somebody is watching you outside of your line of vision? That creepy feeling when you just have to glance behind you to identify the source of your discomfort? I turned my head sharply to the rear nearly knocking off Tony’s nose.

“Mom, don’t move!” he chided. “Krissy, go get my tweezers!”
Laughing, Krissy got up from the table and ran for the tweezers while Tony pressed a finger firmly into my scalp.

“Ha!” he said triumphantly, “I found two hairs! See?”
“You did not. I didn’t feel a thing. I would have felt it if you pulled out a hair.”
“Two hairs,” Tony corrected, “see them?”

I peered at his hand, first with my glasses on, then with them off. Sure enough, there in his palm were two pathetic colorless filaments about 1/16 of an inch long.

“So, that’s two hairs I found. Does that mean I get $10,000?”
“Nope. You don’t get $5,000 either. The deal was to find them and cut them, not pluck them.”
“Aw, Mom!”

Alopecia is unpredictable. Just when you think you’re over it, hair will start falling out again. When you’ve despaired of ever growing a hair again, bam! Back it comes. Friends and family asked why I refused to go to a dermatologist for the usual course of treatment and shots.

I’d watched the son of a friend of mine go that route. The shots were excruciating. Sometimes the hair would grow back in that spot only to fall out next to it. Sometimes the shots didn’t work to grow hair at all, but they certainly worked to keep the young boy focused on his hair as a source of shame, embarrassment and pain.

Thank you, no. Not for me. I had no intention of suffering unnecessary pain – either physical or emotional. I had no intention of giving baldness that kind of power over my life. Submit to pain and shame and hiding…or take my bald head, accessorize and flaunt it with sauce and verve? Well, submission was never one of my strong points, so pass the sauce and heavy on the verve.