One of my favorite baldies...

I've gotten over the anger of being bald. I've gotten over the whole idea of being bald. I can feel the wind blow through my less-than-full peach fuzz (which isn't peach). While an enjoyable sensation, it still brings a little mourning with it.

I don't remember not to scratch my head vigorously until it's too late. I don't remember not to wring out my pony tail in the shower, even after all this time. And I anxiously await my new growth. The bank teller taking my house payment yesterday had beautiful gray hair. While I'm sure it would be a big adjustment to see myself with a full head of gray hair, I'll just be glad to see myself with a full head of hair, period.

I went outdoors yesterday without wig or hat. Just sunglasses. Handyman was taken aback for a moment. We realized it was a "first". First bald day of the season. I glanced at myself in the window of the car.

Since #1 has had strep throat all weekend, we have watched 963 episodes of Star Trek:Next Generation. (Thankfully, season three.) I remembered that there are bald people I really enjoy seeing.



I told the girls about how when I first saw Jean-Luc Picard, I was appalled that they would cast a bald man as captain of the Enterprise. I was disappointed! How could a bald man be masculine enough to carry off such a role? But I was interested in the series enough to stick with it, even so.

And what did I learn? How lacking in taste I could be. Bald is beautiful, Baby!

My command for my hair? "Engage!"