
I admit it: I am bald.
Some of you may say that I am going bald, let’s just face it: I’m a few steps away from taking a straight razor to the remaining stragglers out there. The enemy has advanced and there seems no sign of surrender on its part.
So many people have noticed my beautiful baby girl Gloria as of late and say, “Oh, how sweet…she is so beautiful…she’s got Amanda’s smile…well, she looks like you with the hair…”
If I had a dollar for every time someone has pointed out the obvious statement like it was a new revelation, Gloria’s college would be paid for. Yes, my baby has some peach fuzz. Her mom didn’t have a full set of hair till later, so I suppose the jokes will continue for a while. But she is way prettier than me, and please don’t scar her for life by saying she looks like her bald daddy ;).
It’s OK. I’ve accepted the fact that male pattern baldness has overtaken me.
I was an early starter to this whole thing. I noticed it in my junior year of college. When I would play ultimate frisbee, I began to realize that my longer hair, at the time, would all kind of huddle up together in the middle into this swooping pattern.
One day, one of my best buddies, Steven Furtick, asked me if he could shave my head.
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