This year’s Olympics have left me more depressed than a vegetarian at a Brazilian steakhouse.

And I’m not talking about the fifth snowflake-ring debacle, or the times my countrymen haven’t nailed their triple sow-cow twist and shout ice skate thingy. I’m talking about follicles.

Actually, the lack thereof.

You see, Shaun White and I were meant to be.

Exhibit A:

We have the same exact hair.

Well, we used to.

Exhibit B:

I’m not lamenting the fact that he was the Samson of the skateboarding world, and with the loss of his locks came the loss of a medal. No, I’m lamenting the loss of what our Christmas card would have looked like with us and our six children:

(It was inevitable at least one would pop out with recessive genes.)

For the sake of our future spawn and holiday greetings, consider this a passionate plea, Shaun White, to grow out your locks like Rapunzel once more.

I’ll be waiting.