Wednesday, October 08, 2008
The minoxidil man
Yesterday as I was walking by the Exxon station by downtown Elmora NJ, a tall, young white guy carrying a brown, plastic shopping bag approached me & asked, "Do you want to buy some Rogaine?"
That was a first. I've been offered deals on lots of different things on the street, from crack & sex to umbrellas on sunny days & kittens in shoeboxes, but never hair restorer.
It was dusk & the light wasn't so good, maybe he didn't notice that I'd need to dunk my head in a bucket of minoxidil, or have enough foamy Rogaine to coat my scalp like shaving cream.
I have hair. Sufficient hair that if I grew it long I could comb it over this way & that, in various swirls & patterns, & people could laugh at my thin follicles of vanity. I stopped trying a long time ago. I could grow a ponytail; I grew one in the 90's trying to look like a Vietnamese gangster I saw on a TV cop show. Rogaine wouldn't have helped since my mid-twenties. Although my hair's been receding & disappearing at a slow but unstoppable rate, it was during the first post-adolescent decade that I learned for sure which side of the family provided my hair genes: mom's. That's when I lost the cowlick at the front, & much more, quickly. Then the pace eased off.
Some women care much about men's hair. If you own enough of it you should have it professionally cut, it's not expensive & the cute young haircutter washes it for you, too. You must dye it, otherwise you'll never "score" like the commercials assure us men we will if we but rid ourselves of the dull gray in our hair, if not in our personalities. Older men with full, dark locks ride surfboards, play "Sunshine of Your Love" on guitar, & attract slim, blonde sixty-year old groupies wearing bikinis, oh I wish they all could be California Girls.
But most women I know anywhere around my age are too aware of the processes of time on their own bodies to make-or-break men based on the amount of hair on our heads. If a man feels better with more hair, get more hair. But there's a "ta dah" moment in every relationship when the truth has to come out about everything for both parties, the hair piece, the botox, the face stretch, the Cialis wearing off. You blow out the candles when morning arrives.
Keep the Rogaine or whatever stolen poison was in that bag. If I grew my hair back I'd have to learn to play guitar & stand up on a moving surfboard.
That was a first. I've been offered deals on lots of different things on the street, from crack & sex to umbrellas on sunny days & kittens in shoeboxes, but never hair restorer.
It was dusk & the light wasn't so good, maybe he didn't notice that I'd need to dunk my head in a bucket of minoxidil, or have enough foamy Rogaine to coat my scalp like shaving cream.
I have hair. Sufficient hair that if I grew it long I could comb it over this way & that, in various swirls & patterns, & people could laugh at my thin follicles of vanity. I stopped trying a long time ago. I could grow a ponytail; I grew one in the 90's trying to look like a Vietnamese gangster I saw on a TV cop show. Rogaine wouldn't have helped since my mid-twenties. Although my hair's been receding & disappearing at a slow but unstoppable rate, it was during the first post-adolescent decade that I learned for sure which side of the family provided my hair genes: mom's. That's when I lost the cowlick at the front, & much more, quickly. Then the pace eased off.
Some women care much about men's hair. If you own enough of it you should have it professionally cut, it's not expensive & the cute young haircutter washes it for you, too. You must dye it, otherwise you'll never "score" like the commercials assure us men we will if we but rid ourselves of the dull gray in our hair, if not in our personalities. Older men with full, dark locks ride surfboards, play "Sunshine of Your Love" on guitar, & attract slim, blonde sixty-year old groupies wearing bikinis, oh I wish they all could be California Girls.
But most women I know anywhere around my age are too aware of the processes of time on their own bodies to make-or-break men based on the amount of hair on our heads. If a man feels better with more hair, get more hair. But there's a "ta dah" moment in every relationship when the truth has to come out about everything for both parties, the hair piece, the botox, the face stretch, the Cialis wearing off. You blow out the candles when morning arrives.
Keep the Rogaine or whatever stolen poison was in that bag. If I grew my hair back I'd have to learn to play guitar & stand up on a moving surfboard.
Labels: count the yoyos, Elizabeth NJ, love, sex
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"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be." Thomas Jefferson
That is amazing- rogaine, street quality!
As for hair and men... my poor husband remains obsessed about his hair or lack of it. While we only married in 2007, I first met him in 1975 or 76 when we were at college together and first dated.
The hair was already preparing for its imminent departure then!
I love him the way he is and seemingly vice versa. (It would be easier for me to lose weight than for him to grow hair!) However, this still bothers him at some level. He is a sweet and funny man, completely self-effacing. But that damn hairline!
I think I better show him this post but not the comment!!!
Vietnamese gangster. Coffee spit on keyboard with that one!
As for hair and men... my poor husband remains obsessed about his hair or lack of it. While we only married in 2007, I first met him in 1975 or 76 when we were at college together and first dated.
The hair was already preparing for its imminent departure then!
I love him the way he is and seemingly vice versa. (It would be easier for me to lose weight than for him to grow hair!) However, this still bothers him at some level. He is a sweet and funny man, completely self-effacing. But that damn hairline!
I think I better show him this post but not the comment!!!
Vietnamese gangster. Coffee spit on keyboard with that one!
Bob, that was one of the funniest opening paragraphs I have ever read here. I guess that's what passes for drug deals these days now that crime has gone down so much.
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