Darn you, Rapunzel

I find myself taking a lot for granted. For instance, I have ten fingers and ten toes. This is something that others are lacking, but I generally disregard them, except in terms of ‘to polish or not to polish’ (those are the kind of decisions that could haunt you forever). I also have all my teeth and they are fairly straight, due to the generous nature of my parents’ orthodontic gifts. I still tend to under appreciate my teeth though, because the front two are chipped (tragic, yes?).

Another thing I’ve always disregarded is my hair. I have fairly unremarkable hair. My brother has always lovingly referred to it as “dishwater blonde, the kind with floaties in it.” Charming. It is also very fine, and has absolutely none of what those lucky few refer to as “body”. My hair has no body, oomph, or zest. Without extreme amounts of coaxing and desperate pleading, it is the general consistency of straw.

However, it’s my hair and I’m not one to obsess over the things I can’t change, so my hair has always been on the back-burner of my self-esteem issues. Until last summer, that is.

Last summer my mom was visiting and casually (kindly) mentioned that I was losing a lot of hair. I will admit to staring at her in blank shock. I had never noticed, just assuming my hair was its usual, body-less self. After some frantic self-evaluation I realized that yes, indeed, my hair was thinning.

PANIC!!

I may not be the vain type, but the notion of going through life bald was enough to make me hyperventilate. I could only imagine how complicated it would be to find a date. Who would be interested in “that bald woman”? A trip to a hair loss specialist here in Portland confirmed that I have genetic hair loss. Gulp. I will admit to having a meltdown, right then and there. There was some ugly crying going on after the doctor left the room. Her PA came in the room and asked if I was okay. I choked out my diagnosis to her. And then she gave me the words that snapped me back to reality.

“You don’t need hair to be healthy.”

Sniff, sniff, blowing nose, blank stare. “What?”

She smiled at me kindly and sat down. “Your hair loss is genetic; all your tests results have come back pretty clean. You’re healthy, in good shape, and don’t have any other overwhelming health issues. We have people coming in all the time that have lost their hair due to cancer and other really debilitating diseases. We have little girls that come in with hair loss and are wearing wigs. You are 27 years old and your hair loss is only mildly noticeable at this point. We can treat it and it will probably improve. This isn’t the end of everything.”

Oh.

I’m healthy. I don’t have cancer, thyroid issues, an autoimmune disease, PCOS, or any other of the host of issues that can cause hair loss. Hair is mostly cosmetic. I can live a full and healthy life without it. I don’t really want to, but I can.

Thankfully, the treatments that they’ve put me on have reversed the damage and it’s now very hard to tell that I have hair loss. Some creative styling, a little mousse, and a deep breath usually do the trick. I have recovered from the imagined indignity of having to buy Rogaine (only old men use Rogaine!!! Oh, and me), and have learned through research that LOTS of women my age suffer from androgenetic alopecia (that’s what I have). It’s almost as common in women as it is in men, but we find endless and desperate ways to hide it.

Why am I sharing this? Because it’s only hard to deal with when I feel like I’m hiding it and someone may discover it. I can finally speak of it with almost nonchalance to friends and family now. I can joke about finding myself the perfect, bald man someday (and let me just say, I have a whole newfound sympathy for guys who are losing their hair, it sucks!). I have allowed myself to be okay with the fact that the treatments will probably not work forever, and someday it will be a reality to deal with. I have yet to speak to one person who will admit to liking me less if my hair all falls out.

We all have physical flaws. But are they really flaws if the people who care about us don’t see them?