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You're in a bank. It's Friday afternoon and there's a long line at the teller's window, and so you wait. And wait. You're bored, and can't wait to get out of there. You look around, and everybody looks like the way you feel. As you look around, something catches your eye. You notice near the ceiling a round mirror. You look around some more and realize there are several of these mirrors spread throughout the bank. You guess there must be security cameras behind the mirrors. As you return your glance back to the original mirror, you discover there appears to be a pale flesh-colored round ball resting on the rear top part of your head. You reach up to the top of your head, but feel or see no ball. You look back up at the mirror. What is that? Is it some kind of security camera light behind the mirror that shines directly at your head? No, that can't be it. Suddenly, it hits you like a speeding, runaway freight train. You know what the ball is. You're horrified. Three of the worst words in the dictionary for a guy can now be permanently associated with you -'I'M GOING BALD!' You become completely depressed. This is happening way too early to you. How did this happen? When did this start? How could you not have realized this earlier? How long have you actually been going bald? Why hasn't anybody mentioned this to you earlier? Your brain races to find the answer, but struggles mightily. Your dad had plenty of hair. It got gray, but women seemed to think he looked like Arnold Palmer. Your grandfather had plenty of hair too. It can't be hereditary. Well, what is the problem then? Stress? Everybody has got stress. If stress is the problem, you are doomed. Maybe it could be caused by that cheap shampoo you are using. You vow never to buy another bottle of that shampoo ever again. You remember a party you were at about a month earlier. You were sitting near a couple of attractive women, a blonde and a brunette, whom you did not know, but now some of the conversation you overheard is now coming back to your memory. The blonde had said to the brunette, " I wouldn't go out with a cueball if he was the last man on earth." The brunette said, "Why? Some of them are kind of cute." The blonde replied, " They do absolutely nothing for me. I'd rather go gay than go cueball." You are mortified. Deflated. Defeated. Numb. You are single and you love women, and just want a level playing field, one that gives you a chance. Now, you figure 75-90% of women won't give you the time of day. The 10 - 25% that still will give you a shot probably look like Ugly Betty, Big Bertha, Elsa Lanchester, or the Wicked Witch of the East. You assess your options and realize there are only five: 1) Go the toupe route. 2) Go the plug route, one plug at a time. 3) Go the do absolutely nothing route. 4) Go the find current hair-growing products on the market route. 5) Go the Golden Gate Bridge route. You quickly eliminate options 1,2, and 5. It's down to option 3 or 4. You think to yourself, 'Maybe Ugly Betty wouldn't be so bad,' but a voice in the back of your head says, " You have got to be kidding me, Buckwheat, get serious." It is then you realize option 4 is the way to go. You vow to yourself to do your due diligence and learn as much as you can about hair-growing products. After you do your research, you find there are good hair-growing products on the market, and hope returns. It is not the end of the world. Life does go on, even with a draft on the top of your head.
Article Source: http://articlefree4all.com
T J McGowan is an American concerned about not only the physical aspect of hair loss, but also the mental anguish of hair loss for both men and women, and offers help for people with these concerns at the following site: babalouie7.allinonehealth.com
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