Non-acceptance. The summer of 2012. A hellish summer… | by Milos Lazetic | Aug, 2025

The summer of 2012. A hellish summer day. The clock struck noon. The temperature was 35 degrees Celsius, but it felt cold inside. Peter and I, both in our early twenties, braved the heat and went to the barber shop. “Are you normal?” I asked Peter. He just laughed and said we’d be there in three minutes. We arrived, dripping wet. Peter took his usual seat, and I sat beside him. We waited for the barber’s machine to arrive. Peter always liked his hair cropped short, while I kept mine neat and in place.

That afternoon marked a turning point; I truly experienced what it meant to be bald. You know those days when you wish you could disappear? That was me. The heat outside had nothing on the embarrassment I felt seeing myself in the mirror after 20 minutes of buzzing. It was shocking. From “every hair in its place” to a “streetlight” look, with deep veins and hair only surviving at the center-back of my head. My large head made it worse.

For the next two years, I wanted to hide from everyone — worthless, bald, convinced people would judge me. But that never happened. Instead, anxiety and fear kept me from seeing the truth. During those years, I spent a significant amount of money on preparations, shampoos, and “promising” solutions to restore my hair. Hope was high, but the results were zero. Things only got worse — every haircut, the void grew larger. I even became obsessed with transplants. Despite it all, friends and society told me the new style suited me, but I thought they were just being kind. Inside, the struggle remained. Even when I saw many young men with balding heads, I refused to accept that I would be one of them.

Each trip to the barber pushed me closer to change, and each time, I asked for a shorter cut. Until one day, I told her, “Shave my head. To the end!” When I looked in the mirror, I was glowing — a disco ball. For the first time, I smiled. “This is it! It actually looks great!” That smile stayed with me once I got home.

Today, years later, I shave my head weekly and actually enjoy it. I no longer question if I look good — maybe I do, perhaps I don’t — it’s irrelevant now. What matters is this: I have accepted myself, just as I am. Ultimately, the real essence lies inside our heads, not on top of them.