I’VE not written about this for a while because I wanted to see if it were true of not, but I think I can officially confirm that yes, it is.
Unfortunately, it appears I am going bald.
I am, I am going bald. Not Kojack or anything, more like...am, Naomi Campbell when she went bald for a while.
This all happened because of my sister, yes, my sister turned me bald.
That could be the name of my Channel 4 documentary – I may possibly try to hawk my story out, none of you are allowed to steal my story by feigning baldness now.
I’m going to patent it or put a copyright on it or something along those lines, I’ll have to seek legal advice because it’s sure to be a money spinner.
Failing that I’m going to hit the magazine market, I envisage Take a Break and Woman’s Own getting into a ferocious battle over my story.
Obviously I’ll just go with the highest bidder but you know a heartbreaking story such as this must be treated with the respect it deserves, so I may need to have creative control over the publication.
Anyway, my tale of woe began when sister decided she was going bald. “Am I going bald?” she wailed one day in the kitchen, touching her hairline gingerly.
She then shot her son, Mr T (who is now the proud owner of one bottom tooth), an evil glare.
“This is your fault,” she told him as he stared back at her all gooey eyed and preciously perfect.
“Stress and pregnancy make you bald, I read it somewhere.”
I decided that I would be kind and deny any hint of baldness, mainly because I couldn’t see what she was talking about. Mother, well mother opted for the blunt approach.
“Yes, yes you are,” she told her, leading to a near hysteric break down.
The baldness conversation then reared its ugly head many times. I say baldness, it really was most of a thinning of hair around the temple, and really, you couldn’t even see it, but sister was so convinced her hair was falling out she nearly bought Regain ... which was handy because mother and I were going to buy some for the baby anyway because his hair is nonexistent.
Sister sought advice from doctor in the land and resorted to everything from witchcraft to herbal remedies to blindingly expensive lotions and potions.
Eventually, her hair which was not balding in the slightest in the fi rst place, made an astonishing recovery. And sadly, this is where my baldness begins.
One day, as I sat playing “let’s repeatedly throw everything on the ground for a laugh” with Mr T, I spotted sister approach me in a suspicious manner, which should not have surprised me as she always approached me in a suspicious manner.
She then began to prod me around the head area before saying: “Yeah... just as I suspected.”
“What? You suspected what?”
“Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on it for a while now and yes, it is as I suspected.”
“WHAT?????” I scream at her. “You’re going bald. Oh have you not noticed?”
“Nooooooooo, no I had not noticed sister.”
“Ooooooh. Do you, am, do you not look in mirrors these days then?” This conversation was followed by a few remarks which I shall spare you all from.
Anyway, as it turned out the bitch was right. I’m balding at the temple. It is particularly noticeable when I tie my hair up.
Just yesterday I hung around the men aisle in Tesco while I seriously considered picking up regrowth shampoo.
I pretended I was picking it up for my dad, you know, like that weird ad where the daughter doesn’t recognise her father after he dyes his hair, well, I pretended I was her.
Anyhooooooo ... the end result here is that I’m almost positive I’m balding. That is all.