Where Hair Disappeared, the Real Me Appeared

The day I decided to shave my head, I stood in front of the mirror and felt a strange sense of freedom as I looked at the space exposed above my forehead.

In the place where my hair had disappeared, there remained the cool air and the sensation of my scalp in direct contact with it, and a day began in which I would get used to that new feeling.

In fact, I had not planned to shave my head from the beginning.

Among the staff I worked with, there was someone who held a cosmetology license, and because I was too busy to go to a hair salon, I decided to let that person handle it once.

However, the result was not what I expected, and in the end, after sighing in front of the mirror, I chose to shave my head myself.

Because I am a doctor who studies and treats hair, I thought that since it had come to this, I might as well directly experience the psychological changes felt after shaving my head.

Living with a shaved head was not as easy as I had thought.

Whether on the street or when meeting patients, I could feel that people’s gazes had changed.

My shaved appearance seemed to carry some special meaning for them.

But in fact, shaving one’s head is one of the simplest and most practical ways to hide hair loss.

There are also many celebrities who have made shaving their heads part of their style, like Michael Jordan and Bruce Willis.

In other countries, a culture of naturally accepting shaved heads has taken root regardless of occupation.

Teachers, civil servants, employees at large corporations, police officers, and others working with shaved heads is not seen as strange at all.

But in Korea, it is a little different.

Except for some fields such as artists and entertainers, shaving one’s head is a style that is not easy to choose.

On the morning of the second day, my hand absentmindedly moved toward my head and then stopped.

The fact that there was no longer any hair to tidy felt unfamiliar.

Getting ready for work took less time, but my reflection in the mirror felt somehow awkward.

My patients continued to trust me as before, but I could sense that something subtle had changed in their gaze.

That evening, while I was out with friends, one of them asked with a laugh,

"What kind of wind blew that you even shaved your head?"

I laughed it off, but suddenly I found myself wondering what my shaved head might mean to other people.

On the third day, I truly began to feel, for the first time, the sensation of sunlight directly touching my scalp.

By then, I was also gradually getting used to my appearance in the mirror.

The staff did not show any particular reaction, and my patients still received treatment seriously.

Through going through this process, I realized something.

People care more about the attitude and words and actions with which I approach them than about my appearance.

I came to understand that whether I have hair or not does not determine my professionalism or sincerity, and that in the end, my words, actions, and attitude are what define me.

That evening, on the way home, a child saw me and said,

"Uncle, it must be cool without hair!"

The child’s innocent words made me chuckle.

Shaving my head was certainly freedom, but at the same time, it was an opportunity to look back at myself.

In the place where my hair had disappeared, it feels like I was able to look at a wider world.

Shaving one’s head can certainly be a comfortable and refreshing choice.

But if you vaguely think, "If I lose my hair, I’ll just shave it," I recommend that you think it through seriously at least once.

Shaving one’s head is not just a simple style change.

That is because it is a change that requires considering unexpected attention, psychological changes, and adjusting to daily life.

If you are thinking of shaving your head as an alternative to delaying hair loss treatment, please ask yourself whether that choice is truly the right path for you.