It’s important to begin with something that is normally not discussed openly. A significant proportion of men experience social anxiety and diminishing self-confidence due to male pattern baldness.

Many of these men then feel driven to pursue a number of potential solutions to this problem: finasteride, Rogaine, and hair transplant treatment.

(Disclaimer: I use only masculine pronouns in this argument for the sake of ease and because it relates to male pattern baldness. I hope that some of these arguments will also be helpful for females on other matters.)

I personally have tried my luck with finasteride. My father has been taking it for 20 years and he believes that it has helped him greatly and that he has experienced zero side effects. I began taking it in December 2017, despite the fact that my dermatologist told me that he did not prescribe it and was uncomfortable with the medication. My father’s dermatologist ended up prescribing it for me. After about four months, it seemed to have halted my hair loss—maybe even slightly reversing the process—with no noticeable side effects. However, one day I decided to dump the pills into the toilet and flush. I’d like to discuss my reasoning for doing that. Hopefully this post will help fuel an interesting discussion on vanity and on “the line“ for using external means to enhance the physical form (e.g. getting a haircut or going to the gym, versus getting breast implants). I also hope this helps any balding readers in their decision-making processes.

The impetus for my decision is three-pronged. The prongs are Honesty, Fearlessness, and Envy. I believe that each of these prongs is more compelling than the last.

On Honesty (this may be the least compelling of the three prongs, but I personally enjoy it greatly): When I look in the mirror, everything is just as it should be. Nothing about my appearance is either positive or negative, it simply is, and that is good. The man who is capable of looking and appreciating this goodness is opening himself up to the infinite delights of life. The moment he starts to notice flaws and “negative“ aspects he begins to close himself off, causing these infinite delights to become numbered and limited. Similarly, his ability to be happy and honest with others and the world around him is limited. The man who is open to this appreciation and to this honesty will be able to carry a much more natural, boundless vigor and joy with him each day. He is honest with himself, and with all of his flaws which society has so readily defined for him.

On Fearlessness (this prong builds directly upon the last): To feel the need to use unnatural means to alter your physical appearance is to take a “setting sun” approach to life. In this way of living, each day is worse than the last. As you age you become weaker and your physical appearance steadily declines. You live in fear of the next day and everything around you. It is very difficult to be comfortable and confident with this approach to life. Alternatively, the fearless man is able to recognize the inherent goodness in aging. With every hair that he loses, he becomes wiser, more experienced, and more capable. He is therefore able to enter a “rising sun“ world. For every shadow, there is a torch that produces it. I will give you an example of each. Donald Trump is a fearful man. He fears how people would perceive him if he were to become fully bald, and so he takes finasteride. You can see this fearfulness seep into every aspect of his life. He noticeably has an utter lack of self confidence, despite his words and his title. Conversely, Oliver Sacks was a fearless man. He allowed himself to age with grace and elegance, and carried that with him very clearly. His exceptional honesty and confidence allowed him to move beyond himself and deeply understand the plights of his highly complex patients. In this way, he had a profoundly positive effect on many seemingly hopeless people (if you’ve never read any of his books or essays on the mind, I highly recommend them). I, for one, intend to age with the fearless grace and honesty of the late great Mr Sacks.

These first two prongs may seem a bit melodramatic, but I feel strongly that, as with many things in life, the simplest occurrences can have very far-reaching implications. As I’m sure you’re now realizing, these two prongs aren’t really about hair loss, but about acceptance and opening yourself up to a limitless, truthful and happy life. Sloughing your unnatural worry about hair loss is merely the first step. The final prong relates to envy.

On Envy: In the words of Mikhail Bulgakov, “Surely there is no argument to be made for envy!” When I first started bumming out about my hair loss, I would walk the streets of New York and feel envious of the myriad dashing young men with their perfectly combed, thick heads of hair: “If I only I had hair like that, I would be so much more attractive! Instead, I’m getting uglier by the day.” I know this is hyperbolic, but bear with me. Alternatively, my eye would sometimes espy an attractive balding man. This man may have been losing his hair, but he stood tall, had healthy sunburnt skin, and was laughing as he talked to the woman beside him. Instead of those shameful feelings of envy, this man drove inspiration in me. It’s all about how you wear it. If you’re a hardy individual and carry a certain demeanor and confidence with you, it doesn’t matter what the top of your head looks like. I’ll give you an example: Fridtjof Nansen (Google him; he’s the featured image for this post). He was a Norwegian explorer, scientist, diplomat, humanitarian, Nobel Peace Prize laureate, and an astoundingly remarkable human being. When I look at photos of him, I no longer worry about my hair loss. This then leads me to my next point: Would I rather be an object of envy, or a source of inspiration? In the end, why do I care about how my hair looks? It’s pure vanity. I care much more about the people I affect and the things I accomplish, than I do about what people think of my physical appearance. What sort of person would choose to inflate his ego with surgery, as opposed to inspiring others with his vigor, honesty, self-confidence and acceptance? I would rather be the torch than the shadow. If you’ll permit me a Thoreau quote: “The virtues of a superior man are like the wind; the virtues of a common man are like the grass; the grass, when the wind passes over it, bends [emphasis added].”

Ever since I made this decision, I’ve stopped thinking about my hair loss. I look at the receding line of follicles and laugh at nature acting itself out on my head. It’s a lovely way to be. The second you start taking pills or getting surgery, you begin to burden yourself. It becomes another thing to worry about, and you will continue to check your hair in the mirror every day, despite your active endeavor to “fix” it. Don’t let it own you; own it, and move on.

One final point I’d like to make: A man might say, “I don’t care about my hair loss, but my girlfriend does! Shouldn’t I do these things to make her happy?” Well, a wise friend once lectured me on the necessity of sacrifice in a relationship, and that this sacrifice goes both ways. I am confident that she will happily accept a bit of hair loss on the head that she so dearly loves! It is actually your worrying about this hair loss that is going to sadden her. The confidence that comes with acceptance will probably make her love you even more!

 

Best,

The Sauntering Simpleton