Bald Spot

When I was like 22 years old I worked for the City of Scottsdale, Arizona, and one of the ladies I worked with was admitted to the hospital. Everyone liked her a lot and we did not expect her to ever return to work so we took a group picture to give to her as a reminder of our friendship and affection for her. There were dozens of us and we stood together on a little hill in the park-like setting surrounding City Hall and posed for our picture. Our photographer snapped several candid photos of our group as we dispersed into the manicured landscape and days later, after they were developed he passed them around for all to see.
I noticed someone in the pictures who looked a lot like me and was even dressed like me and I wondered out loud who the guy with the big pink spot on the top of his head could be. Then I realized that guy was me! I confirmed this reality that evening when I went home and looked at the back of my head in the mirror. And I guess every since that day I’ve been absorbing and deflecting bald jokes. Bald jokes don’t really bother me, though because when I look in the mirror I don’t see a bald person. I see an awkward, confused teenage boy with an unruly mass of coarse waves and curls. Granted that teenager lost most of his hair (and never actually had visible eyebrows), but that reality does not define who I am.
Is it just me or does everybody want the people in their world to know and understand them for who they really are?