Going Bald: How Beauty And The Beast Found Love Despite Baldness

So the more I lose my hair the more I realize the importance of a six pack. Being bald is surely not as attractive as boasting a full head of juicy black curls, and having a ripped mid-section is my best bet at taking attention off my naked egg shaped head. Thing is, I despise doing sit ups. Sitting down is fine, but sitting up, not my forte. And up until recently I was unsure why my stomach had turned into a round flab, as my eating habits are still the same (a bowl of cereal every other day) and then I realized I no longer had sex. Yep, when I was in a relationship I had sex all the time (by all the time I meant twice a month and only when I was on my best behavior) but whatever my monthly allowance was, it did wonders for my mid-section. Since becoming single, sex had been as constant as my roommate paying rent… she doesn’t pay rent too often. Currently I look like a skinny fat man (think of a guy in a trailer park). Of course I could have sex more often, but if it means being forced to hold a conversation with someone that isn’t witty, I’d rather smoke weed, hump my sofa and pass out to an episode of Murder She Wrote. It might just be me, but I hate being stuck talking to some stupid girl more than I love having sex with some stupid girl (note: I’m not saying all girls are stupid. I’m saying all girls having sex with me are probably stupid).

But the reality is I’m balding quickly and need to asses my possible options. The most obvious solution would involve me becoming a basketball player, as they are all bald and look cool as sh!t… but they’re also rich and black. Black guys always look cool with shaved heads. When LL Cool J started shaving his head I thought I was gay for at least three weeks. I’m not black though. I’m Jewish. A Jew with a shaved head looks like a cancer patient with a larger nose. The one exception is Bill Goldberg, but he’s a wrestler, has giant muscles and a cool bouncer-equse goatee.

My other option is growing a beard and getting a sleeve of tattoos. I could pass as a tan indie rocker that shaves his head because it’s so ‘rage’, not because he’s so bald. But then I’d have to go back to wearing girl pants (my testicles are still recovering from the one time I did it in New York). Also I wouldn’t really know what to tattoo on my arm. I’d probably just get names of books I like or pirate ships. And if I don’t end up as successful as I plan to be, the only places that hires bald guys with tattoos of book names is Whole Foods and Discovery Zone. I’d feel better about life if I didn’t work at either.

Lastly I could get rich, because you can’t see a bald spot when $100 bills are taped to it. But all that is going to get me is steady poon, not wifey. Which makes me realize what I’m really hoping is that I’m living the life of Beast from Beauty and the Beast. I was once a young, handsome prince and was turned into a ugly, bald beast because I didn’t pay my taxes and stole grapes from the grocery store. But if fairy tales are true… during one drunken night at the Hard Rock, I’ll meet Belle and she’ll fall madly in love with me, despite my cancer looking head. When we finally kiss, my beautiful hair immediately grows back thicker than ever. And after a month it’s like twenty feet long and we build a castle from it and live there with Luminaire, Clocksworth and Lil Chip forever and ever and ever.

Disney needs to make movies with bald heartthrobs so it’s more socially acceptable,

Daniel Dickey