Why I'm Still Losing My Hair

I've been growing "a bit thin on top" since my early 20s.  For years I dismissed it, assuming my then girlfriend, now wife, was just using some odd argument for me to get a haircut.  And then, six or seven years back, I was sitting on my mom's couch when she walked behind me, stopped in her tracks, and said, "Oh no.  Honey..."  There's really no getting around the fact when even your Mom is terrified by the sparseness of hair back there.

More than cures - I've tried Rogaine in the past with mixed results - I'm interested in causes.  I've chalked my hair loss up to two factors: genetics and stress.  There's not much I can do about the genes (my mother's father and her brother both went bare early), but the stress, that's something I think I can tackle.  And that's why I thought that my hair would start to grow back, or at least stop falling out, after I left the stress of work and became a stay-at-home dad.  What I didn't know, though, is that while work creates one kind of stress, toddler herding, despite what wistful empty-nesters might tell you, is fraught with a special stress all its own.  Here are some examples.

Take walking down the street.  Simple, right?  If you can put one foot in front of the other, stop at red lights, and start again at green ones, you've pretty much got it.  But throw a toddler into the equation, and a simple sidewalk stroll becomes a calculus word problem in Arabic.  And you don't know Arabic or calculus.

Unless sprinting after us, running downhill, or chasing down a dog, Mimi averages about 5 yards per minute on your average sidewalk.  She's simply too fascinated by the surroundings.  People, brick walls, gravel, broken glass, flowers, weeds, and even used gum keep her enthralled.  Just two days ago we spent 5 minutes looking at a discarded Toblerone wrapper.  "Just pick her up," you say?  Ha.  You don't know this child.  She'll throw a fit if carried and if you try to strap her into a stroller, she'll do an impression of World War III.  The only way around it is to hoist her on my shoulders.  This, actually, isn't too uncomfortable and makes for some speedy progress. 

There's just one problem.  While carrying Mimi on my shoulders does help to relieve stress, her method of holding on isn't so healthy for my hairline.  I think I lost more hair in ten minutes with Mimi on my shoulders than I did chasing her down the street all week. 

Staying home should be more restful.  Well, it should be, but Mimi has hobbies.  Sumie wanted to get Mimi into paper crafts, so she got her a pair of safety scissors (which we use) and a glue stick (which she insists on wielding).  Instead of cute cut-outs pasted neatly in a beautiful book, we end up with a lumpen, sticky mass of white paper, crayon, and, for some reason, lint.  Even when the cut-outs are relatively under control, they still tend to travel.  Yesterday I yelled out to Sumie that Mimi had left a number two in her crib.  Sumie was worried she'd pooped in there.  Nope, it was just an actual number two. 

Even dinner comes with its own special challenges.  We try to distract Mimi with a little learning during her meals.  This often helps with her chewing and we get a little bit more down that finicky gullet.  Last night, though, Mimi wanted to commune with her numbers, so she wriggled out of her high chair, jumped on the table, and made her way for the number chart.  It was a tough call: table manners vs. love of numbers.  We went with the love of numbers.  We can always address table manners later. 

I really don't think watching this kid is going to get any less stressful anytime soon.  So, I'm resolved to find an alternative means to reduce my stress and, I'm happy to say, I think I've found a solution.  My favorite way of working out stress in high school and college was to take my Karmann Ghia, or later, my Porsche 914 out to play on a twisty road.  I've been thinking long and hard about this and I believe that my hair loss started when I sold my 914 and was, for the first time since I was 16, without a German sports car.  To keep my hair, I think I'll have to get another one.  A 911 Targa should do the trick.

Not only will the excellent performance relieve stress, the open-air motoring will stimulate follicle development.  There's even a backseat for when I need to take Mimi!  Rogaine used to require a prescription.  I wonder if I could get one for this course of treatment.  I'd gladly put up with even a 50% copay!