I had no idea when I posted the story about my hair being saved at The House of Estrada that so many readers would request a photo of me without my hat on. I don’t like having my picture taken, as Mrs. Chatterbox will attest (she often says she looks like a widow in our vacation pictures) so I don’t have many to choose from.
This photograph was taken last year when Mrs. Chatterbox and I went to Yellowstone in May and foolishly thought the weather would be accommodating. That’s Yellowstone Lake in the background, frozen solid. This photo exudes a rugged masculinity that often eludes me in real life. My face is in shadow but you can clearly see the status of my hair—for those of you doubting Thomases unwilling to believe Oscar performed a miracle on me.
*Confession Time: You might not believe this but I do work hard at making my stories as truthful as possible, but it’s likely no miracle was involved in the saving of my hair. In the Seventies we were all doing strange things. Questionable eating habits, lacquering my head with hairspray and overdoing recreational drugs probably caused my hair loss. Oscar’s treatments came around the time I began taking better care of myself.
I’m not sure I actually claimed to have been involved in a hair restoration miracle, but in my defense this is the Holiday Season, and if you can’t fabricate a miracle at this time of year when can you?