Diary Entry of King Phillip of France
We all have our worries. This was one of his.
May 3rd, 1229
Dear Diary,
Mon Dieu! I find myself at the ripe age of seventy, burdened with a most vexing concern. It seems the passing years have not been kind to my once illustrious physique. No longer do I possess the vim and vigor of my youth, and the thought of jousting makes my joints creak like a rusty drawbridge.
Ah, but my greatest worry, dear diary, lies in the waning of my once luscious locks. Quelle horreur! My magnificent mane, once the envy of all the lords and ladies, now resembles the bare pate of a monk in an abbey. Where have my glorious tresses gone? Have they been stolen away by mischievous fairies in the night?
I fear my subjects may no longer respect a king whose crown has lost its regal splendor. Should I take to wearing elaborate hats, adorned with feathers and jewels, to divert attention from my follicular failings? Or perchance I could commission a royal decree, proclaiming baldness the latest fashion trend! Oh, the lengths a king must go to hide his follicular follies!
Yet, fear not, dear diary, for beneath this thinning canopy, there lies a king with a heart of gold and a mind as sharp as the tip of an épée. The French realm shall continue to thrive under my wise rule, even if my head appears to be but a shining beacon for wayward birds seeking a nesting spot.
Till next time, as my hairline recedes and my kingdom prospers,
Philippe le Bald
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