“Wake up, Baldy!”those were the words my husband fondly used to rouse me each morning.
I still recall the year I resolved to do something Id never before contemplated. Some time earlier, Id begun noticing unsightly bumps scattered across my scalp, much like a rash, accompanied by relentless itching. My hair, once so thick, had started falling out in clumps.
Endless appointments with dermatologists and trichologists proved fruitless. The doctor I most trusted warned against taking supplements, insisting they benefited no one. Then, by chance, I happened upon an article stating that shaving ones head could do wonders to strengthen hair follicles. I mulled the idea over for ages. Even when my son tearfully admitted hed be frightened of me bald, I pressed on with my decision.
I turned to my husband and asked him first to take the clippers to my head, then the razorso the job would be complete. Though he fetched the clippers, I could sense his disbelief that I truly wanted this. When it was done and I stood before the looking glass, I was taken abackI possessed what theyd call a properly shaped scalp.
Chilled air nipped at me when I ventured outdoors with my bare head, and as hair began to regrow, it would stick awkwardly to my pillow at nighthardly a pleasant sensation.
After that first close shave, my husband took to waking me with the quirky call, “Wake up, Baldy!” Laughter would echo through the house, for I had now become the baldest in the family by far. At first, my children were astonished; soon enough, though, my son decided to follow my example.
My mother was mortified. She forbade me from visiting until my hair returned, claiming she simply couldnt bear the sight. My daughter implored me not to attend her schools parent meeting without a hat, whilst my husband, ever nonchalant, remarked that if I arrived bareheaded, everyone would forget the meetings purpose entirely, and the other mothers would only envy his wifes bold fashion.
The bumps faded away after the hair was gone. My daughter has since taken to teasing me, saying she never knows quite what to expect from me next. One day, I overheard her tell her brother that she suspected Id soon get a tattoo upon my shiny head
Looking back now, those days are fondly etched in my memorya time when, in the pursuit of relief, I gained not just healthier locks, but also an unexpected round of laughter and family unity, in our old English home.
