Thursday, September 02, 2010

Hair, there and everywhere

I have genetic female hair loss.

There, I have named the elephant which has lived in the room with me for many years. The elephant all my friends have known about but which I haven't talked about with anyone but my closest family members.

It's a tough elephant to ignore but even tougher to acknowledge. It has been a very difficult decision to "come out" and discuss it in this way.

My first inkling that my hair was thinner than the norm was probably in my mid-teens when the hairdresser suggested keeping my cropped hair a little longer and not going for the flat top I wanted because my hair was too thin to carry it off. By my early 20s I knew it was more than just regular "thin" hair. I would say by the time I was 30 I knew I was a freak.

As a woman hair loss is a heavy burden to carry. I think it's very different to male hair loss which is undoubtedly difficult for any man but is certainly much more socially understood and accepted. A woman's hair is part of her image, her style, her personality, her ego. Somewhere deep inside, every woman, even a cynical old bitch like me, imagines herself the beautiful princess, beautiful face and long flowing hair, irrisitable to her Prince Charming.

Over the years I have tried different things to mask this problem, all with little success I fear. I have been to see the specialists, I have Googled all the important words in the hope of finding the magical cure (they can fly men to moon after all...).

About three months ago I finally bit the bullet and ordered what the gorgeous Andrew from Transitions Hair calls a hair "enhancement". Bluntly speaking this is a glorified toupe (you don't know how it hurts me to write those words), a wig of sorts.

Last Friday it finally arrived and I had my "fitting" which meant having my hair cut and the new hair cut into a style which is managable and suits me. I am generally happy with the result and I think I look fine, though it is physically something that will take some time to get used to wearing.

Since then I have been a bit of an anxious wreck. I feel that everyone is looking at me and wondering why I am wearing a wig (does she have cancer? what is wrong with that woman?). I am not normally an anxious person but since menopause my anxiety levels are much, much higher and this issue is very close to the bone. As such I am hypersensitive right now and a little paranoid, never far from tears.

There is part of me which wants to explain the truth to everyone I come across, there is a part of me which thinks I am overreacting, there is part of me which is angry and embaressed and generally pissed off, another part hates that this is so painful for me (after all, I have all my limbs intact, as Mr Fawlty would say), a tiny part wants to lock myself away indoors and never come out. But the main part of me just soldiers on, carrying on with my life, smiling into the bemused, questioning faces I have come across at work and at school every day this week.

The reason I finally decided to expose myself here was that this is really the bottom line of what blogging is meant to be about. It's not just about my obsession with Robbie Williams and reality tv, it's not just about my rambling political ideas or why my kids are driving me nuts this week. It's also about the tough stuff. My inspiration has been my friend Kath in Melbourne who has been brutally honest about her own issues and I applaud her for that. It is bloody hard to reveal your deepest self to a public audience. But as I gain comfort, strength and knowledge from reading about other people's trials and tribulations I hope that others may do so from reading about my own.

If nothing else this new fangled young people's internet allows us to find our communities and to make connections we couldn't have imagined 20 years ago. Maybe writing about this is just further humiliation but hopefully by being brave I can say "it's OK, you're not alone". Because this problem, so huge to me and yet so insignificant in the big scheme of things, often makes me feel very alone and it's a feeling I fear and loathe.

8 comments:

Kath Lockett said...

Oh dear, sweet girl..... you've made me cry. Thanks for being so honest - despite what old dinosaurs in the print media say, blogs are often the best place to let things out because it can be said and done on *your terms* and there's an amazing group of people out here (ie your readers and lurkers) who love what you write and only wish you well.

As for the wig issue, I think you might be surprised that people aren't actually noticing the wig, but the fact that your hair is different. 'Different' as in good, or noticeable, not as in 'look, she has a wig on.' Most of us sheilas (me included, even though I hate the heels, hair and make up pressure), change our length, style and colour many times in our lives and can therefore get away with a wig (or wiglet - I have a few girlfriends who wear those and I had no idea - I was just jealous of the way they could 'put up their hair' and make it look so gorgeous) as just another new style.

Or, do what some women do with hair loss due to cancer and celebrate that you can pick and choose your style and buy TEN.

Seriously though, thank you for sharing this with us. I've had a shiteous week so far; with the work I had scheduled with 'the paper' slashed to a quarter due to budget cuts, meaning that three articles already researched, interviewed, written and submitted won't be published and I won't be paid. Isn't it nice to know that the almighty Fairfax corporation has saved $1500 this month, thanks to me?

I spent today in a bit of a panic about it. No, my income wasn't much compared to LC's but it sure as hell helped and with scheduled articles it was easy to predict when my 'salary' (if you can call it that as a freelancer) would arrive. Not any more.

It took LC to come home and alternate between telling me off for being so dramatic and hugging me. I'm actually supposed to be here dusting off my CV and seeing whatever 'contacts' (of which I have none) I can tap for any leads so that I can still call myself a 'writer' of sorts.

Or I could just log off, slump on the lounge next to LC with some chocolate and red wine and take him up on the offer of a neck rub...? Fuck it, I'll do that. instead.

Kath xo xo xo xo

Kath Lockett said...

Oh and in case you're wondering, all those other deleted comments are mine - for some reason my first decided to repeat itself eight times....

....not unlike tonight's takeaway dinner, as I'm rapidly discovering.

Deep Kick Girl said...

Thanks for your kind words Kath. I'll take all I can get right now. Ego a bit wobbly...

I will toughen up and get used to the "new" me. The cheeky part of me has already decided to order a long hair version of my new pet so I can interchange them and really freak people out.

And I'm sorry to hear about Fairfax screwing you over. As you know Big Jay worked there about 5 years ago. I'm surprised they have any money left at all.

Claire said...

Kathy

To me you are my beautiful friend . . . wig or no wig!

Pix said...

Enhanced, nah! Great wads of bathroom sealant stitched beneath your nipples is 'enhanced'. Love u anyway. xx

La Femme said...

I think you are very brave for writing your story and you do not have a thing to be embarrassed about. L :)

Fiona said...

I think you should give the " piece" a nickname. I was thinking Bob,you know like, from Blackadder but then your boss might REALLY start to worry.

BradKypClan said...

Kath, I have finally had time to read your blogs. I would love you what ever you looked like and I think your look fabulous. I also think youhave been very brave in COMING OUT! and I love your writing style. Extremely entertaining. I look forward to hearing all the goss on NY etc. on your return. Lets book a time in for a catch up. When are you due back??? Love Mel