The woman who tells her balding husband that “hair isn’t important” is the same one who spends every month in the salon getting a perm, coloring it at the first hint of gray, and has more hair accessories than Paris Hilton has shoes.
I have come to the conclusion that women in general hold their husbands to a higher standard than themselves. Make him look like a geek and no other woman will want him. A walk in Kmart the other day found me curiously fascinated at the Hair in a Can display. The can screams in bold letters, SPRAY YOUR DOME, LOOK NATURAL. “You’re not getting any of that stuff; you’d look stupid,” my wife told me. From a man’s standpoint, what’s the difference between painting your crown with one color or painting your face with ten different colors? Needless to say, I left the Krylon follicle spray to some other husband who has the guts to stand up to his wife. I lack the courage!
What made walking away from this cylinder of miracles so painful was the price. Regularly $19.99, it was now on the clearance rack for $3 plus you got a companion nozzle for your chest. It’s only a matter of time before this company goes out of business. Not because the product isn’t desperately needed, but because women are strong-arming their significant others through marital peer pressure.
So I start each day shellacking my few strands of manhood like I was stacking a perfect pile of cord-wood, all to hide the fact if I combed it naturally, I’d look like a roll-on deodorant. Some women even go to the point of allowing their husband’s hair to be parted at the base of the neck to be combed forward, purposely allowing him to publicly humiliate himself. This style takes precision and great hair spray. I saw one man with this hairstyle walking down the street and when the wind blew, it looked like a tarantula was jumping up and down on his head. The fact is, women want their husbands bald. Women know that ‘middle age + baldness= a safe husband.’
It’s actually therapy for women to have a bald husband. They sit around and say things like, “George just feels awful now that he is going bald.” (chortle, chortle) “Oh,” chimes another, “he’s cute bald” (tee-hee-hee)
It’s a lie! This statement has about as much merit as a man saying to his friend, “Hey Joe, I think Phyllis looks great even though her body looks like a Picasso model with spider veins.”
Honesty still is the best policy. Women must admit that bald men do look as silly as Uncle Fester and give him permission to find a suitable replacement for his loss. The outcome is as follows: When he sits at the breakfast table with his two-tone hairpiece that doesn’t match, you’ll love him anyway and he’ll feel like a man again. In return, he won’t comment about how you really look in that neon bathing suit and will assure you that in no way are you beginning to look like your mother.