By the seventh month, there was no more ambiguity. My hair is in good condition for the first time in decades. She looked rejuvenated. She felt rejuvenated. When he visited the barber, the barber whistled and thanked him, just like his proud grandfather. After cutting his hair, the barber said, “I’m sorry, but we have to do something.” He then rubbed his hands back and forth through my hair with a big smile on his face. “It feels really good.”
On our first date, a woman told me I looked no older than 46 (which is obviously a blatant lie that everyone tells, but still). She then elaborated, “You still have hair.”
“I think I’m lucky. I have good genes.”
Around the 9th month, I was happily observing my hairline when I realized that I wasn’t really happy about it. It means you’re gaining weight. Her face was swollen and her cheeks looked fat. When I stepped on the scale, I realized that I had gained about 10 pounds since the surgery. I can’t blame the transplant, but by now my anxiety about hair loss had been replaced by anxiety about my body.
Of course, both of these insecurities are silly. (Remember that line from After School Special: “It’s what’s on the inside that counts!”) But I realized that I probably have some level of insecurity about my appearance. Like most of us. And no matter what we do to upgrade or optimize our appearance, the symptoms may subside, but the underlying psychological issues will remain. That’s what money is like. Happiness studies show that buying something new gives us a burst of joy, but this joy fades and we’re back to square one. And then we want more, and the cycle repeats.
Of course, it is too difficult to quell the demons in your heart with a hair transplant. The purpose is to fix the hair, not a cure. By that standard, the hair transplant was a huge success. The bald spot on the top of my head is almost filled in, my bangs look thicker, and I no longer need to use pomade to “hide” them. In other words, it completely disappeared. I now have completely natural, thick hair.
On a backpacking trip to South America, I met a group of people in their 20s and 30s who were surprised to learn that I was 46 years old. I thought it was just a courtesy, but then he came up to the rest of the group unasked and excitedly said, “Hey! “You’ll never guess how old Alex is!”
This was my first experience. Before going to Istanbul, I had never experienced a reaction like this. So I think it’s all thanks to the port. And after a while, it no longer felt like a hair transplant, it just felt like my own hair and I didn’t have to worry about it anymore. And now, in the 10th month, I forgot to check in to Hair of Istanbul. It’s so relaxing.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. (That’s not to say you should: do your research, understand the risks, and know what you’re getting into.) I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life. This wasn’t one of them. I’d go even further and predict that hair transplants will become much more mainstream in the near future, especially if costs continue to come down. The results are too good to ignore.
At a recent party, I met a friend who knows Istanbul but whom I hadn’t seen since the days of The Ugly Duckling. “Nice hair!” she whispered, not wanting to reveal my true identity.
I thanked her and told her I was happy and that she might indeed look a little younger.
She was very accepting of my new look, and after a thorough examination, she nodded and said, “You can have Botox.”
