Bald is beautiful

Big news for baldies out of Berlin last month: scientists claim male pattern baldness will be a thing of the past, possibly within 10 years. Canadian researcher Kevin McElwee, who holds a doctoral degree in hair biology (who knew?), told an international meeting of hair research societies that “hair cloning” is just around the corner.

McElwee reckons that if a bald guy has just 10 healthy hairs still growing on his head, scientists will soon be able to take follicular cells from those hairs, produce several million cultured cells from them, implant said cells in said guy’s scalp and, hey, presto! — luxuriant foliage where only windswept arid wastes prevailed.

Thanks all the same, Kevin, but I don’t think I’ll be lining up for this one. I’m a card-carrying chrome dome who’s had a bare upper deck for almost as many years as it was carpeted. And I’m here to tell you that I prefer being bald.

Why is bald better? Let me count the ways. Number 1: less bathroom time. I don’t have to juggle cans and tubes of mousse and gel, and I don’t have to fuss with hair dryers, brushes or combs. Hell, I can comb what’s le of my hair with a damp washcloth.

Secondly: hats. I love hats. I have dozens of them, from toques to Tilleys, berets to Borsalinos. Bald guys get to wear any hat they want any time they like. And unlike our hirsute brethren, we don’t have to worry about hat hair. Nothing looks dopier than that Liberty Bell effect produced when a conspicuously coiffed guy doffs his lid.

Besides, let’s face it: bald is in. Mr. Clean. Mark Messier. Ben Kingsley. Patrick Stewart. Most rap stars and seven-eighths of the beanpoles in the NBA flaunt radiant, weed-free skulls. Bald is so trendy young studs are shaving their heads to achieve the look it took me decades to perfect.

And I hope you’re not still buying the myth that fur on the roof equals fire in the belly? Give me a break. It’s time the antiquated notion equating head hair with manliness got deep-sixed. Nothing, actually, could be further from the truth.

The cure is – extreme
The fact is baldness is a surefire sign of virility. And if you don’t believe me, ask a eunuch — all of whom, you might note, sport full heads of hair. There’s a reason for that: a biological Catch-22 all men carry around in their genes. Simply put, there is one and only one infallible cure for baldness.


The 68 per cent of males who will experience significant hair loss before they kick face a brutally simple dilemma: they can keep their testicles or they can keep their pompadours, but they can’t have both.

Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humour?

The other great thing about baldness: it’s a social filtering device, a handy discrimination gauge like white socks with sandals or hair curlers under a kerchief. Undisputed fact for men: there are a significant number of women out there who are repulsed, put out or otherwise turned off by guys with no hair.

Undisputed fact number two: unless you’re a testosterone-crazed, undiscriminating hump hound, you don’t want to know them.

Baldophobes are bimbos. Airheads. The female equivalent of the guy who rates his women friends by the size of their boobs. You want to be judged for what’s in your head, not what’s on it.

So thanks but no thanks to the scalp refurbishing, Mister McElwee. I expect you’ll have no shortage of customers if and when you do perfect the hair clone thing. Male vanity being the awesome force it is, I wouldn’t be surprised if every dude with a pelt-challenged pate and a credit card will be lining up at clinics to have their follicles re-fecundicated or whatever it is you do.

Every guy except me and Mr. Clean. We’ll continue to stand pink and proud.

I may even get myself an earring.