You know what, I like that I’m bald. I can always joke with other folks at work (“Are you sure you want to make this a regular meeting? You’ll end up like me!” - at which point I point my head and get a laugh or two).
If there was any period in my life when someone judged me for being bald (say, a potential date) then screw it, I didn’t need them anyway. It’s a low-level “no shitty people” filter in that regard, kind of like being short (which is another thing).
It’s easy to take care of and it’s cheap. It’s cooler in the summer, but easy enough to warm up in the winter (I love beanies and hoodies). My nieces love petting my head after I shave it, a way of saying hello to Uncle JTR. I think it makes the beard and mustache stand out more, and when I wear my leather jacket, it makes me a bit more of a badass on the outside (on the inside I’m always nice of course)
I think I started balding in my 20s, after the army. My mom was worried and took me to a “hair doctor,” who showed me diagrams of how I would look in a year, 3 years, 5 years… I looked, and I remember I just didn’t care, something I guess he wasn’t really used to. Just a part of me that I always accepted.