Category: If Not Now

I might have bought a pool this week. I can’t be sure.

According to multiple pool suppliers I spoke to, the demand for pools has reached an “unprecedented historic” level of demand. I believe it. My own demand is at that level. The pool lady I called was both friendly and slightly panicked. That is an unusually agreeable combination for a customer and one I might want to see a bit more of if not for the cause.

If I did indeed purchase a pool (no credit card charge or shipping confirmation as of yet!), I will responsibly seek to get a town permit to install a pool in my yard. The permit application for an above ground pool is twenty two pages. (And we wonder why there are different political parties).

In order to get a permit, I need to submit detailed plans for my pool “as built”. But I can’t have a pool installed without a permit and I can’t have a permit without a pool installed. It’s Schrodinger’s Pool. I like to swim in it in my mind sometimes.

I’m proceeding anyhow. I’ll figure it out. Or I won’t. And I find that’s a pretty good metaphor for this past week.

A good head on your shoulders should make no assumption about your hairstyle. And yet it does. Thinning comes as a betrayal and shock to one’s self-image. Few things strike harder as a “wait, me?” moment.

But like many things, the journey while in doubt or denial is far worse than the destination. The balding man in denial is the Schrodinger’s cat of masculinity, confounding all who consider him. The balding man in acceptance is a testosterone-fueled powerhouse of follicle-destroying bring it on.

Don’t be opening scene American Hustle Christian Bale. At the very least, be Duke Ellington American Hustle Christian Bale. But for most of us, elaborate comb-overs are the diet cola in a supersize meal of personal fashion. You should go bold and go bald. Baldness is an end state. Baldness is certainty. Baldness can be relied upon. All you will ever need again to look sharp is a sharp blade. There is a simplicity there you will come to take for granted. Doubt lost and time gained is increased potential. Mathematically even.

You will never be ready. Just do it is the wisdom you need. Stare into your Nikes and embrace decisive loss. Once you do it, there is only one result: more information. There is no downside. If you shave and hate it, you’ve gained information. But you won’t hate it. Chances are whatever look you had going before was worse. You will shed years and not realize it. You will learn about the underlying bone structures of your literal brain case. You will panic. You will in an instant look and feel more like Lex Luthor than you ever have in your life. You will contemplate an entire alternate existence as a super villain and be surprised at the results. You will ask your significant other a million times what they think but not believe them. You will walk around in circles and try on beanies and face the darkness and wonder why Brady left and suddenly you will walk out in public and people will go “wow, man – dig the head! NICE!”.

Or they won’t and you’ll hate it and your scraggly hair will grow back and people will give you less quietly-judging shit about it and respect you more. Because you will be closer to acceptance. Not a half-cat physics conundrum but a primed for Duke Wellington listening parties man that will never happen but like could happen, like that’s just your opinion man. And that is far superior. Think about that.

So…you’re probably going to want to shave. So how to do it?

Stop thinking. No. No. Stop. Get the clippers and clip it down. Buzz it as short as you can. And then–and this is key–don’t stop then. Bic it. Shave it all off. Commit. This is essential. End the madness. Find the end state. Discover the dinosaur bones you never knew you had–maybe you are a triceratops! That’s cool. Or a Klingon. Buy a phaser. Or a goddamn polished dome of sexiness and panic. Oooh. Regardless, you’ll know.

So what then? Optimize your simplicity.

And this brings us to the very first “Going Over” review: Head Shaving Devices.