Just as our clothes can define us, so can hair.
But unlike clothes, it's not always our choice what kind of hair we have or don't have. With what we are dealt in life, we then figure out how to appear to the world.
Hair can be a blessing and a curse depending on where it grows. It likely was put on our heads for protection, only to sometimes be taken away when we are older and more vulnerable. What is the sense in that, I ask?
My husband, Grit, says one good thing to look forward to in the Resurrection will be getting his hair back. He's missed it for quite a few years and totally agrees with comic Larry David that "anyone can be confident with a full head of hair. But a confident bald man — there's your diamond in the rough."
No one wants to lose his or her hair, so it is humbling when it happens.
Though my dad died with a full head of hair, male pattern baldness hit our sons in varying degrees. Our youngest now has the "Yul Brynner" look instead of a passé Donald Trump comb-over — thank heavens!
A good friend of ours joined the LDS Church only to lose his hair. He calls it a fair trade, since he got a great wife. About a year after he joined, he came to church one Sunday and looked as if he was molting. We were happy to hear it was alopecia and not cancer. Hair or no hair, he is one great friend.
Opposite of our friend's situation is Pittsburgh Steelers defensive back Troy Polamalu. He must think he gains Samsonian strength and is thereby willing to sweat like crazy on the field with all that flying long hair. Head and Shoulders took out a million-dollar insurance policy on it so alopecia would not be his friend.
The current stubble look on men is not appealing to me, but it obviously is to a younger generation. There are even special razors made to give them the "designer stubble" look. I don't blame guys for wanting to take a shaving vacation, but a stubbled groom with a princess bride? Tacky.
Again, there is the other problem when hair grows where we wish it wouldn't. Everybody has nose hair; we know what it is and the purpose it serves. Trouble is, no one likes to see someone else's.
As men age, hair goes from their head straight to their ears and noses. One of our daughter-in-laws gave Grit one of those battery operated nose and ear hair trimmers. Get one if you don't have one, please, because there are some men out there so nose-hairy it would be dangerous to bend over a gas burner. They could ignite.
Men are usually the offenders, especially older men, but the other day I was talking with a woman who had a few little tufts protruding, some of it dark. It was all I could do not to say, "You are such an attractive lady, but you have hair sticking out of your nose."
The same can be said of a woman with a moustache that can be taken care of in a few minutes with just a little bleach or hot wax.
Experiences like that can ruin a good conversation.
Of course, it's only possible to speak up like that to your family, but please tell me if I am an offender. I hereby give you full permission.
Well, if wishes were fishes, I'd still have eyebrows and Grit would still have hair. But then a bit of adversity is good for the soul — or so I've been told.
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