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I got engaged recently. My phone lit up with a million Facebook and Instagram notifications, combined with a couple texts from people I haven’t talked to in years, combined with the group chat. While everyone was obviously happy for me, guys tend to congratulate each other in a different way than girls would congratulate. My fiancée’s friends were all “OMG CONGRATS!!!” and a million emojis while my friends were… a little different. My group text all saw this tweet and had particular fun with the fourth picture.
They had their normal fun.
Your hairline is weaker than Stephen Hawking’s biceps
Top of your head looks thinner than your patience
Thanks, hairline. I couldn’t even enjoy my special day without you ruining it. I already have a giant head. I already have a big forehead. I already look like a damn Nephilim and now you want to go and make things worse? All you had to do was stay where you were. I didn’t need anything more from you. Instead, you’ve decided to fall back. Not only are you falling back, but you’re leaving some of your friends behind. I applaud the sections of my hairline that remain fighting the good fight, but for the rest of my hairline, it’s over.
Here’s to the good times. Here’s to the killer flow I had in the summer of 2011. Here’s to getting detention growing up in private school because the lettuce was just too damn long. Here’s to not being afraid for my friends to throw up a pic of us on Instagram. Here’s to having to wear a hat all the time. Here’s to not being able to enjoy my youth. Here’s to being vaulted straight into a midlife crisis.
I can’t escape it. Everywhere I go, I am a 23-year-old looking like a 42-year-old. My head is so big that hats don’t even fit normally. I don’t know what to do; I don’t know how to handle this heartbreak. It looks as if the only outcome is our impending breakup. A life full of happiness and memories is all coming to an end because you quit trying. I never stopped loving you, but you stopped loving me.
I’m going to move on and focus on the future. I’m going to embrace the hand I’ve been dealt. I owned the “dad bod” and now I’m going to own the “dad head.” A receding hairline is a sign of age and maturity. Maybe I can get some respect in the hallways in the office. I no longer look like some young dumb college kid, but now I look like a seasoned vet. Are you more comfortable doing business with some baby-faced punk with a full head of hair, or a real man who has fought through adversity? Nothing is more difficult than coming to terms with losing your hairline, and the fact that I can make it through this hardship just proves who I am as a man. I am a warrior. I am a fighter. I am a legend. I am a 23-year-old who is losing his hairline, but I will not give up. I will be victorious. .
Image via YouTube