I am told that you can get a robot to fix your bald patch for the princely sum of $15,000. You could buy a half way decent car with that money.
I don’t understand why you would bother. For one, unless your hair fell out when you were 25 and life stretches gloriously and forever in front of you, investing this fortune in getting your hair back is not going to you what you think it is going to get you. And if you have wrinkles, a sagging belly, three chins and are shaped like a pear with the personality of a wimp combined with a marshmallow life is not going to get a dramatic social change.
No one says, oooh, look his hair is back, he’s da man. I say man, because only men would be dumb enough to spend a fortune on a part of the anatomy they cannot see.
There you are one day with the big bald patch the size of a baseball and then you come into work loaded with hair and you are thinking, oh boy, have I got an edge.
Don’t kid yourself. All you get is laughs at the office canteen.
What’s gotten into him, he’s about to retire and now he has a chunk of fresh hair on him.
Face it, it’s gone, it’s not coming back. You fed your hair such a rich diet of yoghurt, honey, lemon, orange, aloe, coconut, egg and vitamins so it got fat and fell out of its follicles… it is a sobering thought that hair is better fed than 75% of the human race.
Save your money. In the great cosmic sense, buying it back is only vanity.
P.S. You have to be grateful that I have written this piece without using a single cringe-worthy pun like hair-raising, to the heir, ‘’eir ‘eir, hair today gone tomorrow, up in the ‘air and all those other horrible word plays hair inspires.