Bald is Bold

For almost nine years, I've lived in Japan. And, yeah, there's a nationwide consensus in Japan that you call bald people skinhead because in katakana their word for bald is スキンヘッド pronounced su kin he do. They actually adopted the term from the Brits, who are the only English speaking individuals, to my knowledge, who continue to use the derogatory word to describe a bald person. That said, Prince William and Jason Statham probably call themselves skinheads.

 

(credit)

Katakana is a version of English Japanese use to avoid actually speaking English, and someone decided for all of them that bald people are called skinheads regardless of how horrible and offensive the term is. So, Japanese people believe all English speakers, rather than just Brits, call bald people skinheads. 

They have other terms, but this is the agreed upon one everyone uses.

A few times, I've told Japanese friends, "Just say bald."

"That's offensive," for some reason, they believe. 

"No," I would argue as someone bald and Jewish. "Calling someone a nazi white supremacist is offensive." 

It's so difficult to explain 
this is a skinhead:


(credit)

This is a bald guy:

(credit)

These are thirty-minute conversations that often still go misunderstood. The listener's mind is blown, and they still say "su kin he do," in Japanese like it's not offensive. 

Plus, there’s a stigma that comes with bald men: We all have low self-esteems about it.

(link)

Last Friday I was drinking with some bar buds, and they made cracks, "You're bald," "You’d be better with women if you had hair," et cetera.

Gave 'em this kind of gaze:

 

My friends cackled as if they had me there or something. 

No worries. It’s what guys do in groups for good fun. 

Point is, however, to make jabs at me my pals decided to go after something I genuinely don’t care about; because they have this misconception that all bald guys hate not having hair. For me, it’s quite the opposite.

My journey started when I was twenty-six years old. I had complained to my brother about character defects of mine and added, “What’s next, I start losing my hair?”

I laughed. My brother didn’t join. Instead, he dramatically touched my shoulder, “Actually your hair is thinning in the back.”

Big bro acted as if he’d just told me I had a fatal disease.

First, I denied it was happening at all. Then more people made comments about my hair loss. For example, I saw a guy with a Mohawk and said to a friend, “I could grow one of those. Give myself a cool new image.”

“Not with what you’ve got going in the back,” he replied. “You should shave it off,” was his unsolicited advice.

I ignored him, thought he was just picking on me. No way I was losing my sacred hair. 

(link)

When I was seventeen, my hair touched my shoulder blades and still would if I wanted it to do so. 

(Late '90s)

I got it cut short at twenty to look more professional. 

(early 2000s)

But I wore newsboy caps all the time and walked around in the rain without an umbrella. Plus, I smoked for fifteen years.

To my knowledge, there’s no scientific proof that any of the factors cause baldness, but there's far and wide speculation. Anyway, I took my hair for granted and started to pay the price without realizing what was going on.

(2011)

When I noticed, perhaps a little . . . tiny . . . minor . . . miniscule bit of thinning, I tried to save my hair, pleading for tips from family and friends on how to keep my precious where it was. 

(link)

My hair was so rad, others would ask for treatment tips. 

Reflecting, it was actually too pretty for a guy as manly as myself.

 

(2012)

Nonetheless, I tried to save my waves in demanding from my doctor hair treatment prescriptions.

Then, I spent hundreds of dollars for two years on baldness prevention products. 

Still, I denied that my hair was actually thinning.

 

(Early 2013: smoking a Cuban in Costa Rica)

At 30, I got a terrible haircut and yelled at the stylist who mutilated me because he went shorter than I'd ever had it. But I still paid and tipped out of guilt for my attitude. I was truly upset because that was the first time I saw for myself what was happening to me.

 

(Late 2013)

January 19, 2014, I turned 31 and went clothes shopping. There I was, in the changing room, with mirrors on all three walls, and finally got a good look at the back of my head. Indeed, I had begun to form what’s known as a balding crown. And I was much like the Naked King, because it was obvious to everyone except me.

So I went to the nearest clipper joint. 

My intention was to get my hair short enough so to make the thinning appear unnoticeable. 

Only, no matter how short the poor lady trimmed my dead cells, it was clear I was still losing stuff up top. 

Told her, “Shave it all off.”

Never seen someone so terrified. “Are you sure, sir?”

“It’ll grow back if I don’t like bald, right?”

“Um, I think so,” she replied not so reassuringly.

“It’s only hair. Do it.”

You know what, my head’s never looked so good. I was meant to be bald. It’s now difficult to wear newsboy caps, for which I once never went without, because I enjoy showing off what I’ve got.

\(2008-12)

(2014-15)

Yet, for some reason people think it’s negative that I don’t have a head of flourishing hair. If I wear a hat, friends of mine assume it’s because I want to hide the fact that I’m bald. Most notably, someone asked, “Did you wear that cap the other day because you’re embarrassed about, you know, being bald?”

“No, it’s because I’m freaking cold up there sometimes.”

My brother made a wish—he’d trade hairstyles if it were possible because he views baldness as a problem.

“But, I love being bald.”

Shaving's also fun now. I went all out and bought a special badger brush and a Heavy Duty Double Bladed Safety Razor for guys like me who are serious about what they use to shave.

These days, instead of people asking me how I got my hair to look so good, they say, “Bald looks amazing on you.”

Plus, there are studies that say men lose their hair because they have tons of testosterone, which leads to longevity during intercourse. Meaning statistically, as a bald man, I last longer in the sack than your average guy with radiant hair. 

Sorry, folks, but what’s there to have a low self-esteem about in this case?

Want to talk about how women feel about bald men, as my friends did the other day? 

Survey says women generally find bald guys attractive. 

 

Talking the Mister Clean style shave, not Crown and Glory. 

(link)

Word on the street is a lack of confidence is a turnoff, not a cleanly shaven head.

There’s a lot about my looks I’d change if possible. 

Being bald isn’t one of them. 

Personally, I’m stoked to be in the same club as bros like 

Patrick Stewart , 

Vin Diesel, 

Bruce Willis, 

Jason Statham , and basically the entire male cast of Breaking Bad . 

(link, link, link, link, link)

 To top it off, one of my greatest mentors happens to be bald. For this reason, I correlate baldness as a positive trait.

Future reference to my bar buds, et al., if you’re going to tease me about something, bald-bashing is only confusing—as there’s nothing wrong with having a shaved style. 

Just don't call me a freaking skinhead.

Remember to remember,
~BAM
website
BAM's Readers
facebook
twitter
instagram
tumblr
pinterest
youtube

INSPIRATIONAL AUTHORS

Here's a list of authors who have inspired me. Which ones draw your attention?

Maya Angelou

Her memoirs

Richard Bach

Illusions: Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

Elizabeth Cary The Lady Falkland

The Tragedy of Mariam

Bryce Courtenay

The Power of One

Emily Dickinson

Poems

William Golding

Lord of the Flies

Joseph Heller

Catch-22

Harper Lee

To Kill a Mockingbird

George RR Martin

A Song of Ice and Fire series

Edgar Allan Poe

All of his works and we share the same birthday.

William Freakin’ Shakespeare

Need I repeat, William Freakin’ Shakespeare? Side note, Elizabeth Cary inspired him.

R.L. Stine

Goosebumps were the first books I read.

Jonathan Swift

A Modest Proposal

J. R. R. Tolkien

The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings

Sun Tzu

The Art of War

Unknown Author (Beowulf)

Although seeing the films, I’d never read the books. Then I stumbled upon it when my English professor at the University of Houston, John McNamara, who translated the novel made the book a required reading. Now it’s one of my favorite tales.

John Updike

The Lottery

Kurt Vonnegut

Slaughterhouse-Five. Honestly, I only kind of liked the book. The main character’s craziness is what appeals to me. There’s no narrator like him.

Alice Walker

The Color Purple

Edward Lewis Wallant

The Pawnbroker

Margery Williams

The Velveteen Rabbit. Inspired my first story: The Golden Bunny.

Hellraiser or Acupuncture

For the longest time all I heard from others was how amazing acupuncture was--this miracle cure that helped people find chronic pain relief. 


Bending into a squat makes my knees scream at me and my heels ache daily, especially the left one along with underneath that foot. Plus, I have calve spasms frequently even though I stretch mornings and evenings. I won't stress my neck issues, but let's just say I needed up help there, too.

Upon finding a specialist in Nagoya who spoke English and was highly recommended, I decided to try out acupuncture. 

After all, two years of PT didn't help, nor did one year of seeing a chiropractitioner. 

Side note: Massages indeed help, however, funny enough, as I'm a licensed massage therapist, I don't like getting them from strangers. Ha ha ha.

The first time my skin felt the needle was quite interesting. 

When the doctor poked my feet, it hurt, yet not enough to make a deal about it. I didn't freak out when she said, "I'm going to need the long needles."

[credit]


What bothered me was I went in because of leg issues. She saw the scars along my spine region and assumed I was in pain there instead and of my prime issues discussed. 

I get they know the body. That's why I went along with her decision to poke around my spine. Problem: After the first session, my leg and neck weren't touched. I did leave having more bendability.

Gave another try. Basically, the acupuncturist ignored my legs completely. Moving became easier, so I didn't argue. 

Something wasn't right with her, though. She mistook me for another gaijin (foreigner), because she answered a question she believed I'd asked on my last visit, which I hadn't. The query had to do with the pain patients experience after being stabbed by their needles. She was at least informative.


[credit]

This time she had me lay on my stomach for half the session (15-20 minutes). 

For normal people, no problem. "Resting on my belly makes me nauseous. I'd rather not." 

The doctor didn't listen and left me with needles sticking out of me while I struggled under a heat lamp in sheer discomfort.

I figured, "She's the doctor. Maybe this will help me with my leg pain."

When the acupuncturist returned, she had me turn over. 

Relief. 

She did nothing to my legs as mentioned, and for some reason stabbed me in my right temple.

Your temples are known by martial artists as death points. 


[credit]

As someone with a background in karate, TKD, wing chun, and a few other styles I was taught that you don't put needles in someone's temple unless you plan on killing them. 

Side note: Southern Shaolin has a finger technique that teaches you to poke someone in the temples with enough force to take them out. 


[credit]


[credit]

With this knowledge, of course a needle going into my temple shocked the hell out of me. 


[credit]

I didn't say anything, because you're supposed to trust that a doctor knows what they're doing with their tools. Perhaps she knew a safe way to penetrate the vulnerable area with which I was unaware.

The trouble was, after she stabbed me in the right temporal region I was in pain there and had an instant headache to boot. Luckily, she didn't puncture my left temple. 

And when the acupuncturist mentioned I might experience a temporary headache, I felt reassured.


[credit]


I went in for a third appointment. My legs weren't feeling better, but my back was more flexible. A big deal to me.

Only... 

After a week's passing, the headache and temple pain remained and I grew concerned.

The doctor also had me lay on my stomach again and leave me under heat, though I specifically said I preferred not to be in that position.


[credit]


Also, my orthopedist told me not to lay on my stomach for long periods of time.

I went with the acupuncturist's decision, hoping somehow my compliance would lead to less leg strain.

Fifteen minutes on my gut under a hot light and nearly hurling, the doctor returned. She put some needles into my calves for the first time. And you know what? It didn't do anything for me.

The worst part, someone called for her and she left to attend to them as if I wasn't in the room. Then she came back in ten minutes later and proceeded to stab my legs speedily, which again had no meaningful effect. But she was going fast, and worrying me a bit.

One needle dove into my right shin as if an arrow. 

It was the kind of pain your brain sends to your body when something is severely injured. After she took the needles out, I limped my way to the exit.

That was the end for me. 

The shin pain went away as did the headache two weeks later. My right temple felt bruised, too.

Conclusion, acupuncture wasn't for me.