craveytrain

It’s gone. I mean it’s really gone. I took a #1 to it, and it’s gone.

It looks better in my opinion, cause I had a growing spot of nakedness on the back of my head. This helps difuse that.

Ironcially, people say when guys shave their head, they are accepting their baldness, when actuality it is quite the opposite. We are trying to cover it up, or at least I know that’s what I’m doing. I’m embarassed about it. Why? I don’t know. It’s not like it’s something I can control, but it’s looks bad whether I can control it or not.

So I chose to shave it off, not in acceptance of the eventual, but to hopefully slow the evidence of it. To try to ease the aesthetic chasm.

All in all, I think it looks ok. I mean, I am growing a beard, so if anything, my jaws look too big now. That and I have this large scar and slight indentation in my head from a long time ago, and it gives a conversation piece.

So that’s what the comments should be about. When someone comes up to me and says, “Where/how did you get that scar?” I want some great comebacks/stories to tell.

So far I have come up with:

“Back in Nam, I was crawling through the jungles of Laos. Charlie was everywhere. They came at me 10 strong at at time. I slew an entire battalion, but I’ll be damned if they didn’t get me. Now I have this scar to remind me of the horrors of war and how frail human life really is.”

“I was in lockdown upstate when a bitch tried to gank me with a shiv. He came at my head and narrowly missed a lethal stab. That is the last time he swung. At anyone. Ever. Again.”

“I was out at a bar, minding my own business, with this little punk and his 5 friends come to me and start accusing me of looking at his girl. I hadn’t even seen her till now, but upon noticing that skank, I wasn’t sure what offended me more. His attitude towards me or the thought of being attracted to that dirty leg. Before I could protest, he broke an empty beer bottle over the bar and came at me with it. After he narrowly missed my face, I grabbed his arm and head butted him rendering an unconscientious blob on the floor. I looked around at his buddies, asking them if they were interested. Then I grabbed my coat and walked out the door. I haven’t been back there since.”

“I was rescuing south american children from the guerilla warfare ravaging their villages when a couple of the savages caught wind of me. I took a machete glancing off my head before I could dispose of all of them. Those poor children are probably scarred for life. But they’re alive, and that’s the important thing.”

This entry was posted on Friday, January 23rd, 2004 at 4:45 pm and is filed under sharing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.