YET ANOTHER BALD JOKE (revised)
My girlfriend has 32 different bottles of shampoo and conditioner in our bathroom right now.
Do you know how cruel it is to make a bald man stare at 32 bottles of hair care products every single day of his life? Standing there in the shower, all naked and vulnerable and hairy, except the one place where I would actually like to be hairy?
That’s like putting an alcoholic in the middle of an open bar with his mouth sewn shut.
Every morning I get in the shower and I'm surrounded by bottles. It's like a shampoo firing squad. I can feel them mocking me, pointing at me with their little flip-top spouts and laughing their little shampoo bottle laughs.
Sometimes I just stand there and massage the shampoo in my bald head and I try to remember what it was like when I was young and hopeful and still needed a comb.
And then I say a little prayer to St. Anthony, because he’s the guy that my mother used to pray to when she had lost something, like her keys, or her sanity.
I say "Dear St. Anthony. As you can see, I appear to have lost all of my hair. But I don’t just need you to find it, St. Anthony. I need you to put it back where it came from. I understand that I’m asking for twice as much as most people, but I was an altar boy for seven years. That has got to count for something."
Then I look down and I see a big matted clump of my girlfriend's hair in the drain. She has so much hair that she can just throw a bunch of it away every day.
And that does not make me feel any better.