Do you remember the first time you found out that you were going to be a father? It was one of the best days of my life. The only other experience that even comes close to bringing that much joy is when you find out you’re going to be a grandfather. Congratulations Erin and Tom!

I vividly remember the first time I went through Air Force Physiological Training. Up to that point I thought flying was all about hand-eye coordination and thinking on your feet. I didn’t really understand the physical stresses foisted on your body. There are trapped gas issues from the bends to farting to sinus blocks to gas in your teeth. There are the effects of G-forces from G-LOC to negative G red out. There’s increased radiation at high altitude. After they scare the gas out of you, they then try to mitigate the risk by teaching you techniques that will, hopefully, counteract the scary stuff. You learn how to do a good valsalva. How to do an M-1 (a method to force the blood back up into your brain by grunting and tightening your lower body muscles), but you can’t fight the radiation which some believe results in higher levels of cancer and female offspring! Finally they beat into your head the importance of hearing protection. Earplugs, noise cancelling headsets, whatever it takes because no one wants to be grounded!  In the end, you’re more afraid of destroying your body than crashing the airplane.

There are some conditions that they don’t warn you about. Frightening, life changing, debilitating, embarrassing conditions that can scar you for life. I’ve acquired one of those conditions and since being a victim is the highest goal to aspire to in America I think I’ll have to go to the VA to document it and hope to get a fat disability check for the rest of my life. I may even start a non-profit to fight this ravaging condition. Walk-a-thons, auctions and celebrity endorsements. I think I’ve found my post-retirement purpose. What is this condition you ask? It’s called H.A.S. or, Hairless Ankle Syndrome.

I don’t remember when the I first noticed the symptoms, but I do remember my kids, as toddlers, holding on to my ankle as I sat on the couch and the surprise on their little faces as if to say “my you have hairless ankles daddy!”.  I’m not really a very hairy guy anyway, but who would have thought that decades of wearing high socks and boots could eventually wear the hair right off your legs. And I’m not talking about almost no hair. I’m talking about totally hairless, smooth as silk, shiny, make your wife jealous hairlessness.   Sadly, it’s not a very well researched condition and the government has failed to adequately fund the necessary studies.  Of course, the failure of the nation to acknowledge HAS is mostly due to sexism.  Men’s health is mostly ignored and since to female fliers HAS is considered to be a benefit, there is very little pressure to find a cure.

So, you ask, how can I help?  I will be accepting donations to start a grass roots effort to pressure congress to help the hairless anklers deal with the debilitating emotional stress of HAS.  I’m even hoping to get the new healthcare bill to include coverage for ankle hair replacement procedures with either Rogaine or transplants.  Maybe we can even formerly acknowledge the existence of PTHASS (Post Traumatic Hairless Ankle Stress Syndrome).  So, please help any way you can.  Talk about it, start support groups, come out of the closet with your condition and don’t be afraid show those lilly-white hairless ankles.