I'm going bald and would appreciate if you didn't mention it

My aunt booped me on the head the other day.

Walking along the street with a few other family members, I felt a gust of wind coming towards me from behind followed by a loud staccato slap to my crown.

I don't know if she actually said 'boop', but in my mind she did.

She followed it up by saying she had to point out my "cute" thinning hair.

I laughed it off.

"You're going bald," my mother-in-law loudly declared, apropos of nothing, over Christmas, and last week a cousin joked about it at a family dinner.

One friend takes delight in mentioning my monk-like scalp whenever I see him.

So, when did my bald-patch become fair game?

Laughing through the pain

It's not just family and friends — going bald seems to be one of those things people think they can just say to you, always sporting a wry grin like they've just made an exceedingly funny and clever joke.

I remember the first time anyone put the spotlight on my hairline. I was sixteen and a PE teacher told me out of nowhere that I had a receding hairline. I wasn't balding back then, but looking back it was the start of my hair worries.

I always laugh through the comments and the jibes, it's the only way I know how.

Perhaps with my loved ones, I should tell them it's a little bit hurtful. But to do that would be to admit that it bothers me.

An unhealthy obsession

We're surrounded by society's obsession with hair.

You only have to look at the fevered speculation over Harry Styles' barnet and the wild conjecture over whether he is in fact secretly bald.

And I'm wondering if it's started to bother me so much because it seems easier than ever to fix.

Instagram is flooded with hair transplant stories, blokes chronicling their journey to Turkey for the new hair and teeth combo (I have nice teeth, so not to worry there).

Since 2017 there's been a 43.3 per cent increase in people searching for "hair transplant" on Google search, and according to the International Society of Hair Restoration Surgery (ISHRS) over 700,000 people worldwide got a hair transplant in 2021.

Rates of the procedure exploded by 152 per cent between 2010 and 2021, they report, with the estimated market size of the industry sitting at $6.1B AUD.

There's also pills and topical treatments out there, but the experts say that none are guaranteed to work for everyone.

But then I wonder what all these transplants will look like in a decade and I'm not convinced they'll last.

And even if I went for it, I realise that people will notice when I come back with a bandaged head and again I'll be outed for caring I'm going bald.

My self-consciousness will likely stop me from ever fixing one of the things that most makes me conscious of my self-image.

You're so vain

I think worst of all, it makes me feel vain and hung up on my looks — something I thought might be over once I left my 20s.

Balding and worrying about it also doesn't align with how I like to imagine myself.

A quick informal survey of the bald men in my life suggests they go through the same — barbers, colleagues, priests all pointing out their thinning hair.

Most of them smile or laugh along before changing the subject, none of us brave enough to show that it hurts.

But it would probably be healthier if we felt able to simply tell people it's not okay.