Hair
My bald, shaven head is an endless source of fascination for people.
It is constantly commented upon, scrutinized, questioned, even rubbed by old familiar friends, family and total strangers. I have no problem with that. It's been that way for going on ten years now. But after someone gets to know me, The Question always comes up:
"What did you look like with hair?"
Now, I try not to be overly offended by this innocent question. I never fire back, "Oh, I don't know, what did you look like 25 pounds ago?" or "What did you look like before the hairlip?" I politely chuckle and usually say something to the effect of "not too much different than now" or simply, "Hairier."
But some keep harping on it, wanting to see pictures. Problem is, I don't really have a lot of pictures of myself. In fact, no pictures of me exist until I was three years old (but that's a whole 'nother blog entry). So, it's tough for me to whip out a pic of myself with a luxorious mane of brownish/red hair.
Until this weekend.
While rummaging through some files for paperwork Human Resources needed, I stumbled across an old press pass from my radio reporting days. This pass was for covering the opening of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum when it opened in 1995. So, to quiet some enquiring minds, I brought it with me to work today:
Like I said, nothing too radically different...the goatee is a bit dated, and of course, I had the flattop crewcut left over from my Army days. Nothing extreme.
After hearing all the "Oh My Gods" and "WHAAATs" from co-workers, one of our nellier gay employees blurted out:
"OH MY GOD, YOU WERE HOT THEN!"
That fucking bitch.
It is constantly commented upon, scrutinized, questioned, even rubbed by old familiar friends, family and total strangers. I have no problem with that. It's been that way for going on ten years now. But after someone gets to know me, The Question always comes up:
"What did you look like with hair?"
Now, I try not to be overly offended by this innocent question. I never fire back, "Oh, I don't know, what did you look like 25 pounds ago?" or "What did you look like before the hairlip?" I politely chuckle and usually say something to the effect of "not too much different than now" or simply, "Hairier."
But some keep harping on it, wanting to see pictures. Problem is, I don't really have a lot of pictures of myself. In fact, no pictures of me exist until I was three years old (but that's a whole 'nother blog entry). So, it's tough for me to whip out a pic of myself with a luxorious mane of brownish/red hair.
Until this weekend.
While rummaging through some files for paperwork Human Resources needed, I stumbled across an old press pass from my radio reporting days. This pass was for covering the opening of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum when it opened in 1995. So, to quiet some enquiring minds, I brought it with me to work today:
Like I said, nothing too radically different...the goatee is a bit dated, and of course, I had the flattop crewcut left over from my Army days. Nothing extreme.
After hearing all the "Oh My Gods" and "WHAAATs" from co-workers, one of our nellier gay employees blurted out:
"OH MY GOD, YOU WERE HOT THEN!"
That fucking bitch.
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