I was 23 years old when I found myself stuck in the men’s room of a bar in Charlottesville Virginia, trying to get the timing of the door just right. Door closed, door opened. Door closed, last guy left and, finally with the bathroom to myself, I whipped out a pocket mirror, flipped it to the crown of my head and — there! With a quick swipe, I redistributed a few wispy strands of hair and my bald spot was once again… hidden. Relief. Slowly I made my way out of the bathroom, and rejoined the party.

So how exactly did I go from being a fun-seeking college kid, to sneaking into bathrooms with a mirror?

In my early 20’s I realized I was losing my hair. While visiting my parents on college break, on a hunch I checked out the back of my head and saw the unthinkable: my bare scalp. Clear deforestation. WTF! My life has just begun. Just gaining the confidence to talk to women, just growing into my own. And before I had even gotten the ball rolling, my scalp was telling me (or so I thought) game over. In a flash, from young stud to old man, the halcyon years of my youth unceremoniously skipped over.

In the years that followed, I went from panic about my balding head, to a low-level anxiety. I tried all sorts of tricks to make my balding less obvious. I grew it out, thinking more hair might conceal it. I used “volumizing” shampoo and after-shower mousse to make it look thicker. I got special haircuts. I avoided the rain (wet hair was the enemy to my mop). I looked into meds and surgery (ultimately holding off because I didn’t like the side-effects). And so here I was, relegated to shuffling around follicles on my increasingly barren crown. Partying with a pocket mirror.

Today, about a decade later, I’ve given up the game of “hide the bald spot.” I choose to wear my hair as it is, balding crown and all. I buzz it down because I think it looks more kempt, but I’ve grown to accept the underlying condition. A couple things happened along the way to help me get here.

The first was the realization that I had a say in the matter. After years of trying to hide that I was going bald, I noticed that it took a lot of my energy. Energy I knew I could use for things that gave me (or others!) more pleasure than concealing a patch of skin on my head. The game I was playing was exhausting, and nobody was asking me to play it but me. I also like the idea of making the most of the cards you’re dealt (rather than wishing you had a different hand), and this seemed like a perfect opportunity to put that philosophy into practice.