The Restoration - Part II

-- Note: For Part I of this two part series, click here --


When it comes to restoration, it's safe to say that Rogaine is no Joseph Smith. It's also safe to say the apostasy that strikes the top of my head isn't going to be ending anytime soon. The results tell a sad story (make that the lack of results): Despite fertilizing my head with Rogaine for over a year now, I still haven't managed to grow anything (and I even go to an agriculture school).

It was worth a shot. And about a hundred bucks, according to my latest credit card statement. It's hard to believe, though, that I would be a third of the way to a PS3 if I weren't so worried with how the top of my head looks (and you thought accountants didn't care about image -- well we have feelings too). Still, there's reason to be concerned.

Perhaps you've heard of Jerry Seinfeld? He had a friend named George Costanza. In their early days the two carried similar lives, growing up and attending school together. Despite being best friends, their paths diverged in their post-grad years. Following college, Jerry developed a succesful career filled with  celebrity, money and women. Meanwhile George's formidable years were often spent unemployed, companion-less, at his parent's abode.

What was the difference between the two? One had hair, the other did not.

Simple. As. That.

Having great hair is critical to success in life. It's the source behind Bob Costas' strength, the pillar of David Hasslehoff's power, and the reason behind George's ruin.

No wonder he saved so may lives

I bring this up because I am on the verge of playing the George Costanza to Nathan Ballard's Jerry Seinfeld. The two of us pushed through high school and college as betrothed chaps living identical lifestyles. As Nathan and I completed our undergrads, however, it became apparent that our lives were heading in different directions.

Nathan had a girlfriend. And a job.

I had neither.

Such are the fruits of having (or not having) great hair. What else could be responsible for Nathan's success and my failure (beside skin color)?

But you know what the worst part of this story is?

I did this to myself.

According to Wikipedia --the 8th most trafficked site on the net, mind you -- balding comes from two sources: genetics or extreme stress. Childbirth is another contributor, but my mom says that my arrival was rather uneventful. You can cross genetics off the list as well, as my mom's dad is still sprouting hair at an advanced age. Stress, then, has to be the problem behind my, uh, problem. That said, the majority of my life is experienced in a calm fashion. I don't have a lot of bills (rent and pizza), I have no girlfriend, my colon has been regular ...

Then there's the sports world. My love is spent on the Cougars and the Jazz. And those two teams reward my heart the only way they know how -- by giving it stress. Boy, do they ever do a good job of it. Year after year, these teams have managed to provide me with anxiety, respiratory problems, everything but reliable hair growth. Thus my one true love -- sports -- has eliminated my other love -- hair.

I'm reminded of the words of one Professor Trelawney.

"And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."

Sure she was speaking of Voldemort and Harry Potter, but she may as well been speaking of my hair-sport relationship.

It's a shame because of all people, I know the worth of a well-done do. It is no surprise that Jimmer Fredette's career year has coincided with the best haircut of his BYU tenure. Likewise no one was stunned to hear that 934 Harry Potter fans committed suicide after Emma Watson chopped her Hermione's. Such is the power of hair.

And you thought Dumbledore's death was a tragedy

A person's most valuable asset, lusty locks can be the difference maker in the crusade for jobs, girl(s), and happiness. How curious, then, that the three things I'm trying to grasp require the one thing I can't hang onto.

I've been told at times to get over it, to embrace the falling follicles. Increased aerodynamacy and a distinguished appearance are frequently cited as compensation for having the look of an ancient. While those two traits are nice consolation prizes, I'd still rather keep my locks, because hair is simply too valuable, it's usefulness too apparent.

That's what makes this particular hair loss so hard to swallow (not that hair is easy to swallow under other circumstances). Ever since I was a little kid, people have been telling me to use my head. Maybe they were talking about the top of it, maybe not. Either way now that I need it most, it may be too late.