I Am A Robotic Cowboy

The stress of recent weeks has been playing havoc with my hairline. I'm in the unfortunate position of having a scar on my head, something that is unavoidably used as a marker for my retreating follicles. It used to be covered up, making my fringe spring up in an annoying cowslip. I cursed it, and wished it would change. Now, it's a good half-inch away from causing any of that sort of trouble.
There are certain things you hear when you are genuinely caught in such a position. Friends and acquaintances have a laundry list of half-hearted pick-me-ups that they waste no time in showering on you.
"It's a sign of virility."
"People really don't care."
"I think you'll look good bald."
"You're not going bald, you're hair is just thin."
They often say this while adjusting their rampant fringes, or playing idly with a sideburn, secretly smug in the knowledge that their genetics will lead to a long, hirsute life. Perhaps my favourite piece of advice that has been said to me is:
"You should use a little product." Good God, what are they talking about here? Regaine Extra Strength? Is that classified as a "product"?

But there is a common misconception that the balding man looks towards men with thick and lustrous hair and curses their fortune. I think this is only half true. Since the gradual decline of my once thick and unmanageable mane, I have had two obsessions. That of the man with the good head of hair, but equally with the man who has gone bald in a startling and aesthetically pleasing way. Versions of this can include: symmetrical hair loss - perfectly proportionate bald spots, with no patchiness; the clean cranium - a sparkling, shiny head that looks sterile and mechanical; or the complete, all-over nakedness - a tricky one to pull off as the skull can be a deeply ugly thing that only reminds onlookers of their own mortality.
The biggest worry about going bald for me is not about losing my hair, it's the uncertainty that is killing me. I don't know how my head will look in ten, or even twenty, years. Will I be one of those people who has patchy tufts, and looks dirty and diseased? Or will my head suddenly look too big/small for my body, thus making me look like extraterrestrial disguised as a human? I have never been good at coping with uncertainty in any walk of life - I prefer to be sure, to know everything about any situation. Uncertainty leads to more stress, which leads to a bigger forehead. The cycle will not break for any man...

An interesting postscript: I once knew a German man who was over forty. He had the most wonderful, thick, dark head of hair. I wanted to run my fingers through it. This was how my envy manifested itself. He used to apply carrot oil. His secret weapon?