About 10 AM that morning a young guy who worked for me asked if he could see me. Keep in mind that I'm gay, and I had an eye for cute young guys. I had become friendly with this guy. He was nice and friendly (and VERY cute), and we would sometimes go out for a drink after work, and had even done things like go to a baseball game.I had been to his house and met his wife. Anyway, he sat down and he said how sorry he was at what had happened last night. I thanked him. He then said that he had wanted to talk to me for some time but hadn't known how to bring it up. I told him to go ahead. He asked me if I had been aware of how others viewed me, as it related to my hairpiece. I said (blushing by now) that I hadn't really thought much about it. He asked if I thought it was undetectable. I repled that I thought in some instances it was spottable. He sat back and said he was afraid I thought that. He said he had talked it over with his wife and she said, and I'll never forget this quote, "You've got to tell the poor man the truth". So I told him to go ahead.
What he told me that day pretty much changed the way I have viewed myself ever since. Put very simply, he told me that the whole view of me that people had, came down to the toupee. It was the central part my image. He told me that I had no idea how spottable the topuee looked but that invariably people who had met me for the first time would later later say that either they had been warned about the toupee but still couldn't believe it, or had not been warned but should have been. He told me that he didn't know anything about toupees, but couldn't I be wearing a better one?
Now I had never been real big in the self-esteem department. As a child I was chubby (still am!), and had various other issues. However, I had been largely successful, I think, in fashioning a public image as a self-assured middle-level manager. This day, however, has to rank as just about the most life-changing of all. Remembering that I had this amazing head-in-the-sand attitude until it was shattered the night before and on this day, I was suddenly transformed from this successful executive into a toupee-from-hell-wearing loser. I think it is safe to say I would never again look at myself in the same way.
To illustrate how I had tried to ignore my hair situation, let me describe my routine. Keep in mind that I live alone. When I would come home from work, I would do one of two things. I would either leave my rug on, or I would take it off and put on a baseball cap. I NEVER went bare, even at home alone. Also, I didn't look at myself in the mirror when I took it off. I would stay that way until bed time - either under the wig or wearing a baseball cap. When I got up in the morning, the first thing I did was put on a baseball cap. I wore that into the bathroom while I brushed my teeth, etc. When I got into the shower, of course I took off the cap. I washed my head thoroughly. When I got out of the shower, I dried off, including my head. I cleaned off my head with rubbing alcohol, applied new glue or tape to the toupee, and ONLY NOW DID I LOOK IN THE MIRROR, for it was necessary those few seconds to apply the toupee. That was my pretend-you're-not-bald routine.
Now at that period in my life I was 53. My secret goal was to retire at age 55 (I was NEVER described as a workaholic!). However, events were conspiring to speed up my timetable. Apparently the roast had emboldened those among my staff who enjoyed a good (or not so good) toupee laugh. Drawings started to appear on the bulletin board with "wig" themes - even cartoons clipped from magazines, when they featured toupees, were found on my desk. Now perhaps fortunately, various other events converged to make it possible for me to leave the company about a year later. I negotiated a departure package and off I went.
As I found myself at leisure, a funny thing started to happen. I started to get used to who I am - something I think I had avoided facing since I put on that first $40 store-bought wig all those years ago. I began to relax with the knowledge that I'm a guy wearing a VERY obvious hairpiece. I am one of those people you see on the street and think OH MY GOD! Doesn't he know how he looks? Now that I know that, and accept it, I'm a lot happier. Thats why I have adopted various hairpiece-related screen names and why I actually flaunt it, on line.
The other funny thing that's happened is that I'm now basically turned on by being spotted and made fun of! This is kind of weird. When stuff happens to me, I usually don't react well, but a little later, I get turned on by thinking about it. I've come a long way, I guess.
If I had to do it all over again, would I do it this way? Would I spend my entire adult life under a hairpiece? Without question, absolutely NOT! Why don't I change now? Why don't I take it off if I feel that way? Well, because after 40 years, I can't! At this stage of my life, if I wasn't the guy in the bad hairpiece, I don't know who I would be. But, as I said, if i was 23 again, I would not do it this way. But to end this part of the journal on a happy note, I'm enjoying myself these days and expect to keep on doing so. I know what I look like and I'm ok with it. As someone once said, the worse your toupee looks, the better your sense of humor better be.
I have a WONDERFUL sense of humor!
When I write next, we'll talk about some incidents over the years that may be funny/sad/infuriating, or whatever. Stay tuned!
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