Levi and Ashley tied the knot. Yes, what I drew is supposed to be a rope being knotted, not links of sausage.
They exchanged vows on a warm Saturday, in Odessa Florida. It was a beautiful day. Felt really lucky to have witnessed it, and to have helped celebrate it. Was a little concerned my dance moves might get me ejected from the reception, but there was no harm done.
A couple days before the wedding, Alexis and I came to St. Petersburg to spend some time with my parents. Hurricane Matthew had other plans though. They had to hang back and secure their house in South Florida, so we didn’t see them this time. We made the best of it though.
Doodled this the morning I read about the Orlando shootings. I woke up to a barrage of Facebook notifications from friends who still live there. They all set a confirmed “Safe Status” to let friends and family know they weren’t dead. It’s as real as all this has gotten for me so far. Not just strangers in strange towns this time.
I don’t have a clue about the answers, but it certainly seems like something is terribly wrong.
Brace yourself, this whole rant is going to sound a bit dramatic.
I don’t care what anybody says, going bald sucks. Especially in your early twenties. When I had the realization that I was losing my hair at the fresh age of 24, it was the first time I realized that I wasn’t gonna live forever…
Like I said, this is going to sound a bit dramatic.
Of course no one lives forever, but when you’re that young, you really do feel invincible. At least I know I did. But now I had this constant reminder of my mortality. A reminder that time was passing and that I was getting old. Not to mention the feeling of a waning identity. Thinning, receding, balding. It doesn’t get better, it just get’s worse. It’s chronic.
I fought like hell. Slathered lotions and potions on my head, adjusted my diet, and did enough reading on the topic to probably deserve a certificate of some sort. But by 30, the same haircut I had for the past 6 years had slowly but surely just become a combover. Yikes.
So on my 30th birthday I walked into the barbershop and asked for a buzzcut. Decided if I have to keep going through it, I didn’t want to do it kicking and screaming, trying to hold on to something I already lost. I want to go through it with grace.
Was it for the better? Was it for the worse? Am I being dramatic? Absolutely to all of the above. All I can honestly say is, I don’t feel like I’m hiding something anymore, and that feels really, really good.
At the end of the day it’s only hair, and there are infinitely worse things out there. I’ve got a lot of wins in my life that I hardly deserve, so I’ll take a few losses. Or even a full head of them.
