My cultural awakening: The Jim Carrey series made me embrace baldness — and immediately shave my head culture

gWhile rowing, I was obsessed with Jim Carrey. I was just entering my teens when The Mask came out, and I can still imagine myself watching Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls on TV one weekend afternoon, absolutely howling at the ridiculousness of it. His flexible facial expressions, energy, exciting movements – it was the perfect sense of humor for a young boy.

By the time I was in college, I had moved on to his more thoughtful films. The Truman Show was a favorite: still funny, but with a philosophical twist that resonated with me at the time. I loved seeing Carrey expand into more serious roles, and since the internet has made it easier to watch interviews, I’ve come to admire him as a person as well.

That’s why I was thrilled when I found out he was doing a TV series called “Kidding.” The idea of ​​him playing a troubled children’s TV presenter was irresistible. I started watching it immediately after its release, not knowing that it would spark a personal turning point.

Around this time, I was starting to lose my hair. I was in my early 30s, which seemed very early. I thought I might start going bald at age 50, so I wasn’t mentally prepared. My hair has always been thick, and I even grew it long at university, so when it started to thin out, I fought it. I tried combing it to hide the bald spots, but in the end there was nothing to hide. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw what seemed like evidence that I was aging too soon. It made me feel less attractive, as if something had been taken away from me.

Then one night I sat down to watch Kidding. In the first episode, Carrey’s character fights with his controlling father over the direction of his show. In a moment of frustration, he takes a pair of scissors and drags them from his forehead to the back of his skull, ruining his perfect TV hair.

I burst out laughing, but I also felt something change inside me. What he did was an act of liberation and taking back control. Suddenly I saw my hair loss for what it was: not just a cosmetic problem, but something I was going to let control me. I paused the stream, went to the bathroom, grabbed the beard trimmer and did exactly what Curry did. One long line in the middle. It looked ridiculous. I laughed for a full minute, standing there, finally seeing the absurdity of how much energy I spent covering up those bald spots. Then I went back to the couch and finished the episode, still with that line on my head. When the credits rolled, I went back and finished the job.

It was as if a weight had been lifted. The anxiety I felt every time I looked in the mirror is gone. I actually thought I looked pretty good. I had a nice looking scalp hiding there! I couldn’t wait to show my friends. When I met them, I put on a winter hat and made a dramatic reveal — every single one of them said I looked better shaven. Even my mother, who struggled with the idea of ​​her long-haired son being bald, admitted she liked it.

These days, I keep my head shaved most of the time, although I let it grow out a little sometimes. Either way, I’m comfortable with my appearance. I still have a lot of insecurities – and I think that’s normal – but I no longer feel like I’m aging before my time. I know there’s a social stigma around bald men, but I try not to let it affect me. I know that for every woman who prefers a man with a full head of hair, there will be someone who loves me just the way I am.

If I met Jim Carrey, I would thank him because he taught me to see myself in a lighter, more ridiculous way. Losing my hair felt like something was happening to me, something beyond my control. But by laughing at it, and telling it on my own terms, I turned it into a choice, and that’s what made the difference.