News from ABC and FOX about potential hair restoration breakthroughs makes me think back to a traumatic discovery in my first year of marriage.While descending the staircase in our first apartment, I was at just the right angle to the mirror to see the back of my head the way everyone ELSE saw it.I’m not sure what I said when I went running to my wife for solace, but it probably bore an uncanny resemblance to the scene in the 1942 movie “Kings Row” in which Ronald Reagan awoke to find both legs amputated by a deranged surgeon and screamed, “Where’s the rest of me???”Just 14 years earlier, some of my high school classmates and I had staged a “celebrity roast” for a follicle-challenged teacher, complete with corny gags (“Mr. Holt’s hair is wavy – it’s waving goodbye”) and everyone trying to polish his shiny dome with Windex. I guess my then-shaggy bangs kept me from seeing karma on the horizon.Mr. Holt took the good-natured joshing well, but I now realize that our behavior was a form of bullying. Many of us lead lives of “quiet desperation”, walking the tightrope and trying to retain some shred of dignity.