Hello London. The Moth is returning to Union Chapel on Thursday, September 28th for a night of vibrant true stories.

The main stage is the quintessential Moth experience, a two-act show featuring a musical act, where the storytellers and a notable host share true personal tales without notes.

Experience a night of unforgettable Moth tales as they're recorded for future episodes of the Moth podcast and radio hour.

Doors open at 7 and doors begin at 8. Get your tickets now at the Moth.org Bowerslash, London.

From PRX, this is the Moth radio hour. I'm Jennifer Hickson. In this hour, stories of letting go or trying to.

Releasing long-held beliefs, junk hang-ups, grudges, or in the case of this first story, family traditions.

Chris Foley told us for us at the Atlanta Moth Grand Slam where we partner with Georgia Public Broadcasting.

Before he starts, I need to give you a visual. Chris is bald, bald as a ping-pong ball. Here's Chris Foley, live at the Moth.

Seven or eight years old, I'm watching my dad get ready for work. He finishes shaving and he grabs his long hair on the one side of his head.

And carefully stretches it to the other side. He then takes a can of aquanet. And he sprays his hair and he pats it down on his scalp.

And I look up, dad, what are you doing? I'm covering my bald spot. With all family genes, you're going to be doing the same thing one day.

No, not me, dad. I'm never losing my hair. Fast forward, I'm just 20 years old.

I'm lifting weights with my friend Peter Brown in the gym and I'm doing a bench press. He's spotting me, he starts laughing. What's so funny?

Foley, you're coming bald. What? I run into the men's locker room, I look in the mirror and I comb through my thick, wavy reddish brown hair. And there it is.

My scalp showing on the crown of my head and my heart sinks. Oh shit. I go home for Christmas break. I show this bald spot to my mother and she says, oh no, oh no! We have to do something!

My father's on the couch. Welcome to the club. Next day my mother takes me to the dermatologist. The doctor examines me, opens up a medulla folder, he starts writing notes, doesn't say a word.

I say, Doc, am I going bald? Yep. And he writes me two prescriptions, gives me instructions. One of the prescriptions is Rogaine and the other one I don't recognize is I say, hey Doc, what's the second prescription? He says, oh, right, that's for the acne all over your forehead. Nice meeting you.

I take the Rogaine as prescribed with an eyedropper on my scalp twice a day, every day. And my hair grows back to the point where there's the faintest amount of scalp showing. I get eight good years at a Rogaine.

Till I'm 28. And I look in the mirror and there's a gap forming in the front part of my hair, like the parting of the red sea.

I go visit my parents, show it to my mother and she goes, I've noticed. And I've been doing some research. There is a phenomenal doctor on Fifth Avenue, who does hair transplant. I made you an appointment and I'm going to pay for the consultation.

And my dad goes, whoa, whoa, whoa, giant transplant. What do you talk? Listen, Christopher, just grow your hair, long, moving over, fluff it up.

Now, by this point, 28 years old, I had learned that male pattern baldness is rampant. Not only my father's son in my family, but also my mother's side, with co-movers all through the family history.

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