The LTR's Hair Follies

I shouldn't tell tales out of school, but...

When the LTR hit puberty he didn't get hair where he wanted it (chest) and started losing it where it existed (head). The problem never corrected iteslf and male pattern baldness and a smooth chest was pretty well set in when I met him in our early 20s.

Sometime later, not content with nature, the LTR decided to take matters into his own hands. He applied Rogain to his scalp. Now, the other thing you should know about the LTR's physique is that his skin is extremely sensitive -- a virtual dermatological Alan Alda, or a Al Gore post-Naomi Watts. It wasn't long before his scalp resembled a burnt pepperoni pizza. Because of the skin irritation he had to discontinue the Rogain. Painful scalp -- and no hair growth.

Fast forward several years later...the LTR, flying in the face of experience -- decides to try and do something about the dearth of chest hair. He applies Rogain with a vengence to his barren pecs.

And again, pepperoni city. Only this time, when his pectoral Chernobyl subsided, there was -- viola! -- hair growth!

One problem. Instead of the manly thatch of black hair he hoped for, he got a scraggly swatch of grey.

I told him I thought it was "cute."

Now, when the goal was "manly" achieving only "cute" is akin to aiming for outer space and ending up in Pensacola. Or thinking you're about to kiss Antonio Banderas and then open your eyes to Jose Feliciano.

The LTR was not amused.

So, he's lived for a number of years with the swath of scraggly grey chest hair...until...

Last May (2005) we were scheduled for a trip to Costa Rica. The LTR decided he would enjoy Costa Rica more if his chest boasted a proud manly black thatch of hair. So he bought some hair coloring product at the local drug store, and, ignoring the warning on the package that it was not to be used anywhere on the body OTHER than the head, he applied it liberally to the hair in the center of his chest.

Or course, his skin erupted like Mt. St. Helens. It itched so badly he had to go to the doctor to get an anti-histimine injection. The swelling and redness persisted during our trip. But his chest hair did turn black. Of course, in the center of the crimson skin it looked like someone had painted a bullseye on his chest. Thankfully the Costa Ricans weren't hostile to the hapless Yanquis...And, of course, the black eventually returned to its natural grey hue.

Fast forward to today. I'm in the home office working. He's upstairs in the bedroom "cleaning." A long time passes and he is too quiet. I see him later and I notice that his chest in once again boasting the manly black thatch.

"Did you dye your hair again?" I ask. He looks away and says no in a small voice. "On your mother's life swear you didn't dye your chest hair again." He walked away.

Later in the day his chest gave him away as it turned an all-too-familiar bright crimson. "I tried a different product," he said sheepisly.

As the day and the swelling redness progressed, he said, that, although he would go to the doctor tomorrow to get a shot, he was trying prayer and "the power of thought" to help him heal.

I heard a voice say, "Well, if you'd used the 'power of thought' from the begining you wouldn't be in this mess in the first place." I realized too late the voice belonged to me.

After I finished eating my cold leftovers alone, instead of the planned grilled steak dinner, I sat down to update my blog.