The Head Shave

Let me just start by saying that I never would have voluntarily shaved my head.

I used to hear stories about people shaving their heads for various reasons and think-that's crazy, I could never, would never, do that.

I had short hair for a large part of my childhood.  One time in grade 6 my mom 'accidentally' gave me a pixie cut.  When the woman at the flu clinic complimented my mom on her 3 boys instead of her 2 boys and 1 darling daughter, I finally was allowed to get my ears pierced....so that was nice.

From that point on the goal was to grow my hair long. As long as it could grow. At one point I got annoyed with my growing, always frizzy hair and decided it would be a good idea to chop it all off.  I went into the salon with hair past my shoulders and came out with it just below my ears.  When I went to wash my hair the next day I cried because there was nothing there. I felt like a boy. 'Never again' I told myself. I'm growing it long. 

Grow it long. 

Grow it long. 

Grow it long. 

After our meeting with the dermatologist, my boyfriend (aka Paul, aka the boy, aka Hilly) and I made a quick pit stop at the hair salon. Now that a doctor had formally told me he thought it was something other than alopecia I had renewed hope. I thought that if I trimmed some length off of my hair it somehow would make less of it fall out. Less length to pull on, less wear and tear...or something like that. 

We walked into the the salon which seemed pretty busy at the time. I asked if there might be an appointment available at some point that day but unfortunately they were all booked up. 

'What is it you're looking for?' the hairstylist asked

At which point I removed my scarf and explained my situation. 

'Can you wait 10 minutes?'

Now this is something that I think is important for everyone to remember: People are generally good. There's some crappy people around for sure but for the most part, people are good. 

The woman who was in the seat at the time I walked in offered her spot to me saying that she could wait. Nobody gawked or stared, the hair dresser was incredibly professional and I got to feel a bit like my normal self. 

After my hair cut was finished I pulled out my wallet to pay but my money was not accepted. 

'You don't owe me anything' he said 'It was my pleasure. I'm glad I could help.'

Why?  Because people are good. 

The next day we left on our road trip to Seattle and Vancouver to visit some friends. Under the cover of a hat it looked like I had just gotten a haircut but upon removal of my new security blanket my friends were (understandably) shocked. Shocked but incredibly supportive and loving which is exactly what I needed. 

A week later we were back home. A week of wearing hats and scarves in the hot summer sun. A week of being increasingly upset every time I looked in the mirror. A week of watching even more of my hair fall out. 

Finally, I'd had enough. 

I had talked about shaving my head about a week and a half into my hair loss misadventures. Losing your hair is one thing but having to watch it fall out bit by bit, day by day is like a never ending horror movie. As much as I wanted to stop watching it fall out, I hesitated because I whole heartedly thought it would stop. I never in a MILLION years thought that I would end up bald, so I held off. Why shave all my hair if I wasn't going to lose it all anyway?

I was also scared. I didn't know if I was going to be able to handle being a bald woman, I didn't know how my head was going to look and I didn't know how people were going to react. And, more importantly, I was absolutely terrified that this would be the last time that I would ever see hair on my head. My own hair anyway. 

So I held on to it, a little longer than I should have (not that there's a reason I should not have or an appropriate time frame for making these kinds of decisions) until with a lot of love and support from the boy, I took the plunge. I was so sick of letting my hair run/ruin my life. So sick of vacuuming up hair everyday, cleaning out clumps of hair out of my brush, looking like friggin Gollum from Lord of the Rings and freaking out every time I got in the shower thinking my dried hair balls were spiders. 

I was still terrified at the thought of being bald and still a bit traumatized from my first wig shopping experience so I was left in a bit of a pickle. How the hell was I going to do this?? That's when Paul made a suggestion....if you're going to wear a wig, why don't you make it LOOK like a wig??

Yes. This could work. Not only would I be taking control of the situation by shaving my head, I was going to wear a WIG. No awkward questions because it would be obvious. No worries about showing my bald head because I would have a WIG. And if people want to look, LET THEM LOOK! Because I am a bad ass mofo and you know nothing about my story. (Besides, I always wanted pink hair). 

Wig shopping the second time around was a much different experience. I was in a different head space and it felt good. I was a woman on a mission and I was ready to get 'er done. Paul and I spent the full day shopping for wigs, going from store to store until I was finally satisfied. At the end of the day I went home with... A blonde bob (that still looked like a wig but was looked just real enough in case I wimped out when the time came), a PLATINUM blonde bob for my Marilyn Monroe days, and my personal favourite... The purple bob (because they didn't have pink). 

{Also, quick side note: mad love to the boy who equates shopping with 'a fate worse than death'. He didn't complain once as I dragged him all over the city. You=the best xx}

When we got home it was head shave time. As much as I was ready for it to happen I was still nervous so I made the boy use a longer blade to start. As I put the towel over my shoulders and felt the first wave of hair fall off my head, I felt....

Relieved. 

So unbelievably relieved. 

I didn't even cry. I thought for sure I was going to lose it and have some sort of Britney-esque style melt down, but...it didn't happen. I didn't shed a single tear. Instead, it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, there was nothing left to worry about because there was nothing there anymore. 

After deciding that using the blade on the clippers was really a waste of time, I let the the boy take it off and trim my remaining hairs as short as they would go. When he was all done I turned around and looked at him with my newly bald head. 

'Well, what do you think?' I asked

'I think it suits you'

Next week: 'You shaved your head! That's so cool!' 

                   'Well actually....'

#alopecia #alopeciaawareness #autoimmune #thebaldmovement #baldisbeautiful #bebrave

                            

Wiggin Out

Trying on wigs is fun when:

-You're rocking a sweet ass Halloween costume

-Your best friend has decided to do a 70's themed bachelorette party complete with Afros 

-You want to know how 'Pretty woman-esque' you'd look in a blonde bob

Trying on wigs is not fun when:

-It's a cold, rainy and otherwise miserable day very reminiscent of your current mood

-Your doctor has just told you he thinks you have alopecia

-Your long distance boyfriend is coming to visit the next day

Post doctor appointment #2, my friend and I headed to a local wig shop.  Considering how heartbroken I was feeling about my situation I was still looking forward to trying on some wigs.  I was still in denial about the fact that I was likely going to lose all of my hair, so I was trying to look at wig shopping as a fun thing to do.  Something that was just going to be temporary.  Something I could do to try out a new 'look'. Something to cover up my growing insecurities.

Let me just start by saying that the woman at the wig store was amazing.  Kind, caring and attentive.  It just didn't turn out to be the experience that I wanted it to be.

First off, I didn't realize all the wigs that they carried were made out of synthetic hair.  Knowing what I know now, this isn't really a big deal.  But on that day I just remember feeling really disappointed. The term 'synthetic wig' just reminded me of a costume shop- all I could think was 'I'm going to look like a fool. People will know this is fake hair and they're going to make fun of me or ask too many questions that I don't want to answer'. At the time this was everything I wanted to avoid.  I didn't want people to know I was wearing a wig, I wanted to look like myself.

The woman who was helping us explained a bit more about the wigs that they carried, advantages of short vs long wigs and the kind of adjustments or alterations they could make to each style.  She then encouraged us to look around and pull the styles I thought would most suit my needs. 

Here's the other thing about looking at wigs:

Somehow, no matter what the style, when a wig is on a plastic mannequin head it always ends up looking like a bad 80's hair do.

Again, not thrilled.

After picking out a few styles that I thought might be alright, I took a seat in the salon type chair to give them a go.  At first things were alright.  The wigs didn't look like my hair but they didn't look quite as unnatural as I thought they might.  What it did feel like was a lot of hair.  My hair was always super fine and stuck pretty close to my head whereas putting on a wig made me feel like I was at least 3 inches taller.  But, 'wigs can be thinned' I was reassured, 'things can be trimmed and styled to make you feel more comfortable'. 

Like I said, things were ok at first.  The rails came off the tracks when the store worker made a comment about my hair.  You see, the wig cap I was wearing underneath the wigs kept sliding off my uber fine hair.  

'You're hair is so fine and soft.  My hair was the same way'. 

At which point she removed her own wig to show me her bald head (which was actually super comforting because I legitimately had no idea she was wearing one).

'You know there are support groups in the city...for alopecia.  I know when I was diagnosed I felt super alone but the support really helped'. 

Cue the ugly cry.

Like U-G-L-Y

It wasn't anything she said and she was really so so so lovely about everything but this was the first time someone that I didn't know and that wasn't in the medical field had suggested I had alopecia.

I had mixed emotions.  

On one hand I was angry,

'How can she say I have alopecia? She doesn't know. She's not a doctor.  Just because she has alopecia doesn't mean that I do too.'

On the other hand I was heartbroken,

'Well she has alopecia so she knows what it's like. So I must have it too.'

I managed to pull myself together to try on a few more wigs but soon after decided to call it a day.  An emotionally exhausting day.

The next day I headed to the airport to pick up my long-distance-love-of-my-life boyfriend.  We hadn't seen each other in 3 months and I was so incredibly relieved to have him around.  I spent most of that weekend crying into his shoulder off and on (nothing says I love you and I missed you like crying at the drop of a hat right???).

My GP was able to get me some sort of an accelerated appointment with a dermatologist that Monday afternoon so I put on my scarf and off we went to the doctor. 

Now...we will talk about dermatologists in a later post so for now I'll be brief...

Ever been in a dermatologist's office?

I'm not sure what I was expecting but this is what I got:

The set of the Real Housewives of Edmonton.

At least that's what it felt like.

The office was cloaked in cheesy decor and ads for 'longer lashes, fuller lips, no wrinkles!', sculptures lined the counters and when I registered I was informed that the 'skin care record' was a mandatory form.  'But I thought I was here for my hair....'

When we finally got into the room the nurse took a 30 second history and went to get the doctor.  My visit with him was brief.  He took a quick look at me, pulled out a few of my hairs and said,

'You have telogen effluvium'

'Even though I'm going bald?'

'Yes.  It's TE.  We will do some blood work to ensure there is nothing else going on but your hair will grow back and you will be fine.'

A wave of relief washed over me.  I mean he is the expert after all....

Hair Fall

You never really know how much hair is on your head until you're staring at a garbage can full of discarded strands.

I just remember thinking to myself 'how can there be this much hair' as every day my paddle brush filled up to the brim.

And then 2 more handfuls fell out in the shower.

And then another handful fell out throughout the day.

In hindsight, I probably should have saved it all for a wig....

During the second week of my hair loss misadventures, as I watched my garbage can slowly but surely fill up with my locks, shear panic set it.  There was no sign of this slowing down and it was getting harder and harder to disguise what was happening.  I spent hours doing online research, reading hair loss message boards and emailing work colleagues looking for an answer.  Deep down I think I knew from the start what I was dealing with but I did everything in my power to try and prove to myself that I was wrong.

'Chances of having alopecia are slightly greater if you have a relative with the disease'

Nope.  Don't have that..

'Typical first signs of alopecia are small, round bald patches'

Nope.  Don't have that.  I mean sure there are balding spots-ish but this is more like a mass thinning so it doesn't really fit their description.

'Most common in children'

'Area of hair loss may tingle or be painful'

'Nails can be affected having pitting, white spots or lines.'

No.  No. No.  These don't fit.  It has to be something else..

It was around this time that my mom and I went for my consultation at the specialty hair salon to look into possible hair extensions.  I had seen the testimonials they had online and I was ready for them to work their magic on me.

Cue the sympathetic eyes and the 'I'm sorry but we can't do anything for you' and my waterworks started all over again.

You see, when your hair is still actively falling out, there's nothing they can secure the extensions to.  Of course I knew this before I went to the appointment but I just kept saying to myself 'if it would just stop falling out...'

In fact very morning as I pulled another clump of hair out of my brush I would look up to the sky and say,

'I get it.  I'm not taking care of myself.  I'll try harder but please just make it stop'

And then I'd give the hair in my hand a stern look and say,

'STOP IT'

Then I'd look at myself in the mirror, slam my hands on top of my head, use my best impression of a mom voice and angrily say,

'JUST STOP FALLING OUT'

Clearly my body needs to work on its listening skills.

The only thing the salon could offer me at that time was a bottle of dust in fiber type things that made an attempt at covering my increasingly visible scalp.  $50 and 1 use later the bottle is now shoved somewhere in my bathroom cupboard so if anyone wants to give it a try, let me know.  (I should add that they do work very well for small spots with thinning hair.  They just don't work all that great when you're trying to cover up your whole head.)

At this point in time I was getting really sick of watching my hair fall out every morning and being so distraught over it.  I started to think that I would be better off shaving the rest off and wearing a wig.  I was still convinced that a dermatologist was going to be able to diagnose me by looking at my pattern of hair loss so I didn't just want to shave my head all willy nilly.  Since my appointment with the dermatologist wasn't for another month, I made an appointment with my GP.

'Oh' he said as I sat down in his office and removed the hat from my head.

Ya, oh.

Oh...I've lost another 50% of my hair this week.

Oh...I still don't know why this is happening or how to stop it.

Oh...this friggin sucks.

Oh.

Then, for the first time, he used the 'A' word, as in 'I think you have alopecia'. 

Friggin great.

Next week: wiggin out at the wig shop and temporary piece of mind from a dermatologist

Hair Loss Heartbreak

I had good hair.

Not in the ‘wake up looking perfect’ kind of way.
In fact most days when I woke up my hair looked more like a rat’s nest that had been through a hurricane rather than an effortlessly styled ‘do’.

Not in the ‘the dirtier it gets the easier it is to style’ kind of way.
You know how hair dressers always say they prefer to style dirty hair because it holds better? Not my hair, it didn’t get the memo. When it was dirty it was just that...dirty.

Not even in the ‘at least I can put it up in a ponytail’ kind of way.
For some reason that never seemed to work for me. My ponytail ended up looking more like a limp piece of frayed yarn rather than the cute-girl-next-door look I was going for.

But I had good hair.

My hair made me feel pretty. I knew that if I took a blow dryer to it, without too much effort I could work it into some sort of style appropriate for nights out on the town. I knew that if I was feeling a bit ‘blah’ about things I could go get a haircut for an instant pick me up. Even if said hair cut didn’t turn out quite the way I wanted, it was just hair and it would grow back. I was actually trying to let my hair grow out so that one day when I got married I could style my hair into the perfectly coiffed up-do that Pinterest had me so inspired to try. (And no, its not weird to think about how you want to do your hair on your wedding day when you’re not even engaged. It’s just a girl thing, I swear!)

My hair and I, we had worked out a system. I washed it every day (not great I know, but I was trying to avoid the hurricane rat’s nest fiasco). After conditioning I would brush it out with a wide tooth comb, use a towel to pat it dry, add a little bit of product and BAM! Hair done.

It was because of this routine that when one day when I was combing my hair in the shower and a small bunch of hair appeared on the comb, I didn’t think anything of it.

‘Must have been a knot’

When it happened again the second day I thought it was strange but I still wasn’t worried.

But by the end of the week, I started to panic. Suddenly these small bunches of hair had started to add up and when I went to part my hair one day, I saw it. A small little bald patch. But that wasn’t it. Because that small little bald patch was surrounded by visibly thinning hair.

I was losing my hair and I didn’t know why.

Nobody around me had seemed to notice. My concerns were met with sympathetic eyes and reassurances that this kind of thing happens all the time. Even when I showed friends that every time I touched my head at least 10 hairs would fall out, nobody seemed that concerned.

‘Have you been stressed?’

Definitely. This year had proven to be challenging in more ways than one.
Ok. This makes sense to me. I’m losing my hair because I’m stressed.
I’m stressed. This is normal. My hair will stop falling out.
It has to.

I started to look up ways to disguise my continuing hair fall. Lucky for me my curly hair made it easier to cover up my mini bald patches but it was still starting to make me feel self conscious. I never knew if one day I was going to wake up, have to go to work in the morning and not be able to hide my situation. I found a hair salon in the city that specialized in camouflaging all sorts of hair loss. Extensions, toppers, shake in hair fibers, you name it they had it. They even had a private room where I would be able to get my hair done and not worry about being embarrassed by what other people were thinking of my balding head. Jackpot I thought. So I booked an appointment for a consultation the following week.

In the meantime after many a teary eyed phone calls to my mom, it was decided that I should go see a doctor to make sure nothing serious was going on.

Two days later sitting in my doctor’s office, he confirmed what everyone else had been saying...

‘It’s probably just stress. I would try not to worry too much about it. I’lll send a referral to a dermatologist just to be sure and we will run some tests but you will be fine’

Reassured by his comments I asked him for a note for a week off of work. I thought if this really was stress related maybe a week off of work would do me some good. I would have time to relax, be able to stop worrying so much about trying to cover up my rapidly thinning mop and I could get myself a bit more organized.

Unfortunately for me my week off didn’t turn out quite the way I planned.

Lets Get It Started

Now this is a story all about how,
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there
I'll tell you how I became the baldest girl up in this room.

Catchy, no?

Ok, so maybe song re-writes aren't in my future but I can tell you what is.
A cold head. A very cold head.
Winter is coming and this is Canada. Trust me when I say even if you think you don't have enough hair on your head to keep you warm this winter, you do and I am envious of you.

Why?

Because I have alopecia.

Alopecia.

A word I avoided saying during the 3 weeks it took for all my hair to fall out.

Alopecia.

An auto immune disease that makes your body think your hair doesn't belong to you anymore.

Alopecia.

The reason I now spend more money on wigs than I do shoes.

Alo-friggin-pecia

But don't get me wrong, this is no sob story. This is just my story. The story of how you can go from having a full head of beautiful curly blonde hair to completely bald is less than a month.

The good, the bad and the downright ugly.

So bear with me as I try to put my thoughts to paper (or text to computer, although to be fair I totally did a rough copy of this on paper because I'm a 90's kid and that's how I roll). I'm no writer but I'd like to try and share my experience in hopes of both creating more of an understanding of alopecia itself, and also why I'm ok walking around with the only hair on my head being that of a reverse male pattern baldness (jealous??).

Tell all your friends and make sure to stay tuned.

Alopecia is a cruel hearted bitch but I got this x