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The Struggles Of Living Life With A Really Massive Head

The Struggles Of Living Life With A Really Massive Head

This one's for the meatheads

Jake Massey

Jake Massey

The first time I knew for definite that I had a really massive head was when I moved up to high school. I'd also moved to a new area - from the red roses of Lancashire to the white roses of Yorkshire - and I didn't know anybody at my new school.

Within weeks, these people I didn't know had given me a new name to get used to - Meathead.

When I told my parents about it - like a big-headed little grass - they said the kids were just being mean and that I wasn't a 'Meathead'. However, my parents were proven to be liars during my first appearance for the Year 7 school football team.

As I jogged over to take a corner a group of...let's call them local youths....on a nearby embankment shouted: "Ehhhh look fuckin' Meathead's taking the corner!"

[I whip in the corner, heart sinking inside, but ever professional]

"Fuckin' decent corner that to be fair to the Meathead," one of them adds.

They shouldn't have been surprised - you have to be an excellent set-piece-taker to justify not being in the box with a head this big.

But my prowess from dead-ball situations was of little consolation in that moment, as I realised beyond any doubt that I definitely had a massive fucking head.

While this was news to me, it was not actual news. My head had always been fucking massive. My dad told me he used to dread taking me to parties as a toddler because I would always gravitate straight towards the bouncy castle, where I would wreak havoc, like some comic book villain with an over-sized swede.

As I lolled about with my shoulder-mounted boulder of a head I would smash into the tots around me, who would shatter upon impact with my fat fucking skull. Parents had to scrape the crying shards of their child off the PVC canvas, while I continued to giggle and spring about, oblivious to the damage I had done.

My head was always massive. My corners were always dangerous.
Jake Massey

Occasionally, when the subject of my massive fucking head crops up, somebody trying to be conciliatory says, 'Oh no it's not that big'. But the truth is, it is.

My brother and I were once weighing ourselves and were surprised to find I was heavier, even though we looked pretty much the same size. We decided to take turns lying on our side with our heads on the scale, and sure enough, mine was about 33 per cent heavier than his.

Dad then had a go as mum walked in the room; she was very confused and refused to participate in the study.

But if you doubt the trustworthiness of our DIY head-measuring methods, then let the indisputable determination of the old tape measure serve as proof.

According to John Halifax Hatters head measuring scale, the circumference of a medium sized head is 22.5 inches. The circumference of my head is 24.5 inches - making it half an inch bigger than XL and a quarter of an inch shy of XXL.

According to measurements, my head is massive.
Jake Massey

What's more, I am not nearly an XXL man. I am 5ft 10', which is just above average. As such, my massive fucking head is totally out of proportion and thus looks bigger still. My body is the well-trimmed pubic bush, making my swollen penis of a head look even bigger than it actually is.

And I'm bald. I mean, FFS. Cut me a break, head gods.

The empirically undeniable fucking massiveness of my head has been illuminated on countless occasions throughout my life. Unsurprisingly, any situation involving head-wear is troublesome.

A particularly humiliating and depressing case in point arose on a high school trip - putting the nail in the Meathead coffin.

We were on an army challenge day in a forest somewhere. The military people spoke to us at length about how they're so disciplined and yadda yadda yadda. I asked one of them if he'd ever shot anyone and he refused to answer - which I took to be a yes. It was a pretty boring morning, truth be told.

But in the afternoon, we were presented with the opportunity to take part in an army obstacle course. Not everyone fancied it, but I definitely did: there were tunnels, monkey bars and tyres and loads of mud. It looked great.

via GIPHY

As I got to the front of the queue, it was time for the inevitable helmet fitting.

Me: "I'll warn you now, I've got a big head."

Soldier: "Ha! No worries son, we've got helmets of all sizes. I'll start you off with a large kid's one."

[Soldier tries to put helmet on head, helmet perches on top of head]

Soldier: "Oh, you weren't kidding! I'll get you one of the regular adult ones."

[Soldier tries to put helmet on head. Helmet does not fit head.]

Soldier: "Jeeeeez...right we'll get you a large, don't worry."

[Soldier finds large adult helmet and tries to put it on my head. That doesn't fit either. Soldier tries to prise all the internal plastic skeleton from the helmet and squeeze it around my massive fucking head, before giving up.]

Soldier: "Sorry mate, it looks like you're made for an office job."

via GIPHY

I spent the next hour sat on a patch of moss, watching my 'mates' (the dickheads who call me Meathead eight hours a day) have all the obstacle-based fun they could stomach.

It's for this reason that I normally skirt helmets altogether, much to my mum's dismay. The fact of the matter is they just sit on top of my head, making me look like some kind of cycling beefeater.

As such, if I were to be smashed into by a lorry, the helmet would simply fly from its perch atop my noggin and I would die - having looked like a moron in my last moments.

I also like to think that my big fat skull inherently possesses some of the protective insulation ordinary mortals are forced to seek from a helmet.

That helmet is not on properly.
Jake Massey

Caps have been a pain my entire life, too. Whenever borrowing one, the first thing I do is pin the very last button to the very last hole and hope for the best. Invariably, even with the cap on its largest setting, this quickly becomes excruciating and I am left with a big red ring around my head (which only enhances the whole penis for a head look). I like to think this pain is the Meathead equivalent of how Ariana Grande must feel after a long day with a high pony.

Since becoming bald (which has also done wonders for the penis for a head look) caps have become an absolute necessity to protect myself from burning on a hot day. Fortunately, I managed to remedy the red head ring by acquiring an XL/XXL cap online. Like some kind of headgear pervert, searching the dark web for 'specialist' props.

Don't spend your summer days in pain meatheads, get yourself online. You are not alone.
Jake Massey

Fits like a meat glove.
Jake Massey

However, this purchase outed the fucking massiveness of my head to a new social group recently in very awkward fashion.

I had just joined a new football team and didn't know any of the players. It was my first match and I was on the bench, but just as the game was about to kick off, our goalkeeper started shouting to the manager asking for a cap to keep the Sun out of his eyes. Neither the manager nor any of the other subs had one so, not thinking, I volunteered mine.

I got it out of my bag and passed it to another sub who ran on to the pitch and gave it to the goalkeeper. He put it on his head, but it hung down and covered his face, making him look like a sleeping sunbather. Clearly assuming it was on too large a setting, he flipped it around, only to find there was no smaller setting.

"Who the fuck's hat is this?!" he shouted, completely baffled by the custom-made contraption he had been passed.

The other sub sort of pointed at me timidly, reflecting the fact he didn't know me well enough to take the piss...and the fact he didn't even know my name.

The keeper threw the hat in the back of the net and played with a squint.

But while I have fixed my cap problems, Christmas cracker crowns will always expose me as the Meathead that I am. The video below is a typical example of the traditional routine - though this was an atypically warm Xmas in Yorkshire.

... OK that was actually a typically warm Christmas - in the Australian desert.

It's not all bad for us meatheads, though. Research has shown that on average, people with larger brains tend to be more intelligent.

That said, having a larger head is no guarantee of having a larger brain. I often wonder what's going on inside mine. Maybe my brain is just regular sized, with a super thick crust skull encasing it. Or perhaps it's just a huge vacuum, with but a pebble-brain banging around the void.

I tend to believe the latter, due to my inability to swim, more than anything. When thrown in water, I have survived every single time, but not really because of my swimming ability. What tends to happen is my head bobs along on the water's surface like a massive buoy, while my body below flails desperately, unable to dictate the direction of travel. It's this apparent buoyancy that makes me think my head might be largely empty.

Hollow or otherwise, another potential boon of having a big head is a greater chance of making it as a big-name actor. The theory is that big fucking heads are more expressive and fit quite well on a big cinema screen. Imagine my head on IMAX.

However, this is probably just a theory, and as far as I'm aware there is no Hollywood stars head circumference database we can consult.

Me having a little read.
PA

Regardless, the scarcely creditable prospect of an improved chance of seeing your big fucking head on the sliver screen is small consolation for the lifetime of insults, missed obstacle courses and hat-induced embarrassment we meatheads face.

Ultimately, though, we should save our sympathies for the mothers of meatheads; no woman has sinned enough to warrant the punishment of having to bring one of those things into the world.

I tried to make light of this grim truth in an exchange with my dad that backfired horribly.

We were in the pub with about eight of my mates, all sat around a table very pissed. My dad and I had locked horns in a jesting war of words, which was escalating quite rapidly - much to the delight of my mates.

via GIPHY

Dad was slagging me off and said it was a shame that I had inherited the head of a bison, rather than his penis.

My friends all laughed very loudly at my expense.

"You're just bitter because it ruined your sex life," I quipped (referring to my bison head, not his penis).

My friends all laughed very, very loudly at my dad's expense.

There was a moment's pause, then:

"What do you think the arse is for?" my dad replied, sipping triumphantly from his beer.

My friends all laughed very, very, very loudly at my expense.

I kept my meathead shut for the rest of the night. And long, long after.

Featured Image Credit: PA

Topics: Funny, Interesting, Community