Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Or rather, "Gone Today, Hair Tomorrow"?  That certainly is the intention, what with Janu-hairy coming to a close and my follicle count looking dismally lean.  This is nothing new, as a decade of strained reserves has left my mane increasingly limp, particularly in the last few years.  I have always sprouted fine strands (I can recall an Eastern European stylist at a New York salon remarking over my "baby hhhear" in his filigreed accent, and that was at my heaviest).  However, I find it disturbing that, with its entirety drawn into a ponytail, I can only collect half as much as I when I was half as old.  At that rate, in fifteen years I can expect to be a dead-ringer for Daddy Warbucks (if not, well, dead).  I have found myself meditating on the issue unstintingly over the last week, and catch my attention lingering on the subject when it might be directed elsewhere.  For instance, it is "Awards Season" presently in Hollywood, with a glut of Red Carpet specials filling television's less ambitious newscasts.  Be it on film or live at their self-serving gala events, the fabulously healthy A-list talents of the American screen demonstrate covetable coiffures.  (This stands the norm unless, like Brad Pitt or Natalie Dormer, an edgy role requires the head shaved in an unflattering  manner straight out of the Mad Max universe).  The capstone of Great Movie Hair Moments was, of course, Rita Hayworth's introduction via wave-toss in 1946's Gilda.

"Who me?" she asks coyly.  It would be hair-esy among cinephiles to cite any other icon, although Veronica Lake makes a strong play for second billing.  (Columbia Pictures)

 I realize a surprisingly high proportion of celebrities sport expertly-camoflaged wigs, weaves, and extensions; even so, most adults --famous or not-- have more hair than the average six-year-old.  That, unfortunately, is the level I find myself at.  I'm crouching aimlessly, hugging my inflatable arm bands in the shallow end of the pool with the junior aquatics, while well-adjusted colleagues swim their robust laps.  I firmly believe that, like most of my health woes, hair loss is caused by an internal imbalance, one I can correct through better nutrition.  Thus, I have nearly doubled my (admittedly meager) protein count and resumed taking a naturally-manufactured food-based daily multivitamin.  I should probably also add a fish-oil supplement for omega-three fatty acids, but I hesitate.  All of these measures I have conquered on past occasions, only to see them somehow dismissed from my regimen, as I inevitably act on the instinct to trim-back on vitamins in pill-form, as well as to limit meat, something I generally do not crave.  I actually have at hand a large bottle of GNC B-complex supplements, but for whatever reason I fail to acknowledge them.  For now, I aim to be resolute by concentrating on the essentials.  Should this not prove effective, creative styling solutions might help disguise my unsightly condition.  Perhaps the talents of a Parisian milliner shall be enlisted?