What exactly are your bi-monthly trips to the hair salon about? Are they insecurities coming to the fore, your fear of aging, of possible relevance deprivation? Are they countering a potential loss of virility, a perceived threat from the young Turks?
You walk around the office bleating about grey hair; glancing in mirrors, window glass, and even into the large shiny trophy that sits in the Board room. It is now a standing joke about your ‘incidental’ glances, into whatever reflective surface crosses your path!
Are you aware there is a photograph of you pinned to the wall in the downstairs loo, head tilted towards a large soup spoon you are holding – presumably just snitching a closer look for any encroaching greyness? Have you read the caption underneath? “Black hair matters…!”
You and your mate’s preoccupation with hair, or lack thereof, is drawing hundreds of media articles every week. You have created a distraction from our campaign. The media now follows your pate, its encircling fluff, and your mate’s secured “golden fleece”, both having attained their own aura, the photojournalist’s must-have, essential pic.
Do we really need to listen to your cacophony about the greying of your tonsure? OK, OK not strictly a tonsure, but your head muff. The decision to paint over your ensuite’s mirror, with red paint, for Christ’s sake! As our Il Capo, maybe you are taking things just a little bit too seriously.
Do you understand that about two-thirds of men suffer some degree of hair and pigmentation loss? Most accept it graciously, albeit probably with some wistful nostalgia, memories of former glories.
Do you think your behaviour goes unnoticed? You deny the obsession’s existence, ignoring your colleague’s advice for an adroit awakening, of the need to accept some graceful aging. Consider reducing your workloads and resist that extra double espresso in the morning. These are all consequential! Things could all end badly, suddenly. Your constellation might implode, with a mighty exhalation.
After the media captured, and maliciously posted your most recent hair-malfunction, don’t you think it’s time? The spectacle of that goo moving slowly down your face. That went around the evening TV bulletins nicely. Not your finest hour, and again, just a serious distraction from the real task at hand – the positioning of fake news!
Hey, you’ve got so little of the furry stuff left, why are you bothering with the pretence? Are you really just trying to keep up with the blonde cowlick? Imagine for a moment, you’re in Fantasyland, and it all went black again, do you really think that your colleagues, the media, or even the El Presidente would think any more or less of you?
The ol’ pate-muff needs to take a backseat. It’s not alopecia, or a failing, it’s just your body talking to you. Let’s present the real you! Let’s start planning your relaunch. What could you call it? Maybe “My muff and I” OK, just joking. But you really do need to reconsider the priorities at stake here.