I'm always a bit shocked when a client feels it is her God-given duty to comment on the state of my hair loss. I take it in stride, smile, laugh a titch, but inside I'm seething. Not because I'm losing my hair--I accepted that a long time ago--but because I'm perplexed at what makes a person think I'm interested in their opinion when it comes to my balding.
A few months ago I was looking over a young woman's application when apropos of nothing she said, "Wow, you really lost your hair at a young age, huh?"
"Well, I am 29," I said.
"Yeah, wow, that's young." I looked up to find her studying my head as if it were some kind of strange visitor from another galaxy, like she'd never seen what lies beneath a person's hair before.
"I love to be constantly reminded that I'm losing my hair," I responded with more than a little trace of bitterness. "Thanks."
Secondly, I hate being told that I look like someone. Usually that someone is bald, fat, bearded, and four-eyed. Rarely am I compared to the kinds of celebrities men aspire to look like and woman desire to screw. Like, the woman who commented on the length of my arm hair.
"You know who you favor? C.W. Anderson."
"Who is C.W. Anderson?"
"He was a wrestler. I saw him in Goldsboro once. He made quite a success of himself."
He may have been quite successful in the world of wrestling, but look at him! Who on Earth would want to be compared to this guy? He looks mildly brain-damaged! I asked the woman if me "favoring" C.W. Anderson was a good thing or a bad thing. "It's a neutral thing," she said matter-of-factly. In truth, it isn't a good or bad thing, it's an insulting thing, an abysmal thing, the kind of thing that makes one consider suicide. How could things get any worse?They can and they did on Thanksgiving Day, 2008. Here is some background. I shave my head, but when it's been awhile I tend to wear a hat most of the time. For lack of a better term, I'll call it a cabbie hat. This is what a cashier at the drug store called it once. "Hey, dude, I like your cabbie hat. I'm thinking about getting one." OK. Anyway, I've got this cabbie hat and the last time I had seen my parents I was sporting an impressive winter beard. So, the family is hanging out in the kitchen, dinner is just about ready, and my mother turns to me and says, "You know who you look like, Matt?" Oh, sweet Lord, I thought. Please let it be George Clooney or Matthew Fox. Hell, I'll even accept Steve Buscemi. At least his face has a lot of character.
"No. Who, Mom?"
"Dom DeLuise."
My mother told me that I reminded her of fucking Dom DeLuise! Dom DeLuise, the comic actor famous for, among other things, being morbidly obese! Can you believe that? My own mother. After dinner (I chose to indulge in a pack of saltine crackers rather than sample any of the delicious-looking Thanksgiving delights), I found the above picture online and called my mother into my dad's office to get a good look at Mr. Dom DeLuise.
"I look like this guy, Mom?" The rest of my family surrounded us, their laughter like rusty nails on my tender exposed flesh.
"It was just the beard and the hat, honey, that's all." My mother felt horrible the rest of the day.
A few days later I was informed that a friend of mine had once suggested to another friend that I resembled a young Dom DeLuise, which I really don't see. Sure, Young Dom (or Dommie as I like to call him) isn't as fat, but he isn't wearing the right hat and where is his beard?
For some reason people like to tell people that they look like other people. It has been suggested in the past that fellow GEP bloggist, Jonathan, looks like both David Cross and Napoleon Dynamite and my wife has been told countless times that she looks like Margaret Cho. First of all, neither of these people look like the people that people claim they look like. Secondly, being told you look like David Cross or Margaret Cho isn't actually that insulting. Both are funny, good looking, and reasonably successful. Who on Earth has ever heard of C.W. Anderson and what has Dom DeLuise done lately other than get chunkier?
Maybe I've always had an unrealistic view of my own attractivness, but I tend to think I'm a moderately handsome guy. I'll admit, I'm no Tim Daly, but the ladies have still dug on me over the years. There's nothing that can break a man's stride faster than hearing he looks like a fat, sweaty goofball. There's no better mojo-reducer than pointing out someone's balding pate. So here's a suggestion, various people I interact with on a daily basis, unless you want me to inform you that the celebrity you most resemble is Joseph Merrick or Sea World's Shamu, I suggest that you
STOP ALREADY!
