Give Me a Head With Hair

          All Baby-boomers remember the shocking play from the late sixties entitled 'Hair'. It was risque, boisterous and spawned quite a few top ten hits, including the title song, 'Hair'. Hair, and lots of it, was the subject of this song. 

          This got me to wondering. What do we women think about our hair? Don't most of us see our hair as the very essence of being female. We cut it, grow it, colour it, curl it, straighten it, style it, condition it, hot oil it, touch it, twirl it, swish it, flirt with it, hide behind it, and attract the opposite sex with it. It makes us feminine and, like pedicures and days at the spa, sets us apart from the males. It makes us girls.

          Being one of the above described women who is on a first name basis with her hairdresser, imagine, if you will, how I felt when shampooing my hair one day a huge handful came out. Staring at the many, many strands of hair coiled around my hand, in disbelief, I quickly ran my hands through my wet hair again. Even more strands in my hand. I was horrified, shocked and devastated. I started researching the internet. Female baldness. Alopecia. Scary stuff. There were many causes of female baldness but the one that I zeroed in on was not baldness at all. The technical term, Telogen Effluvium, is caused by trauma, having a baby, or major illness. Bingo. A quick trip to the doctor confirmed my findings. No, I haven't had a baby, at least not in the last 37 years and I had suffered no mental trauma. I had been ill. As a matter of fact, just before Christmas of 2010 I had been hospitalized, dramatically ill. So ill, in fact, that I spent seven days in the ICU being pumped full of antibiotics, fluids, and needing oxygen.

Not a happy woman.

Taken the day the hair stopped shedding

           After the initial 'shedding' my hair fell out in huge handfuls every day for two months. Then one day the shedding stopped. Just like that <snapping of fingers> there was no more shedding. Although I had been assured and reassured by the doctor that my hair loss was temporary so much of it had been lost that it seemed to me total baldness was my destiny. I would hazard a guess that over one-half of my hair fell out in those two months. When the shedding did stop the remaining hair was so incredibly damaged and dry it resembled the hair you see on a coconut; brittle, lifeless, sticky-uppy. I was not a happy woman but I was feeling better that my hair had actually stopped falling out.

Chin length bob I had been wearing for years.

    The hair I started out with was thick and curly and viewing my scalp wasn't something I had ever experienced.

This is where a fine hairdresser can be a life-saver. Someone so wonderful you consider inserting her name into your Will, bequeathing her most of your worldly goods. Well, not quite. But certainly good tips and sending referrals her way is nice.

          After the hair stopped falling, hair cut number one saw me sporting a kind of spiky little number that required a lot less product than before. Where I once used a golf ball sized squeeze of styling mousse a dime sized squirt now did the job. It dried much quicker too. Six weeks later, hair cut number two was just a small snip here and there. I began to feel new thickness in my hair; also a crazy itchiness of my scalp as new growth started to come through. Every now and then I would find abstract wisps of hair around my hair line that wouldn't sit up or sit down, just twist in a weird kind of unstructured curl. But do I

mind? Absolutely not. Perfect hair has never been my goal. Too thick, too curly-headed and too lazy to manage the stretching and blow drying necessary to keep up a perfect coif. Too much humidity to worry about my straightened hair frizzing up on me. I have always kept my curly hair in a natural state and the new hair is as tightly coiled as a spring.

Crazy curls. Phase 2.

          
           I  actually had some compliments on my new 'summer cut'. Cute, easy, great for summer were some of the reactions I received. Wow. Going to my hairdresser over the course of a year was an adventure unto itself. I enjoyed waiting for the colour to take, seeing what style she was going to produce as she snip, snip, snipped away. I liked hearing her promise that by Christmas I'd have all my hair back. 
          And she was right. My  hair did come back. The tightly coiled curls relaxed and I was back to my softer curled bob. Then another change. I am now left with hair unlike any hair I have never known or understood. It's not straight, exactly, but the curls have relaxed to the point where I can now have a totally different look should I choose. With my awesome hairstylist's advice and know-how I am now sporting a spiffy up-to-date look. The chin length curly bob I had been wearing for 10 or so years was on the chopping block, so to speak.

Not so curly now

Do I mind that my hair has changed drastically since the start of this metamorphosis that started in 2010? Well, no. Quite frankly, I just am so happy to once again have hair on my head that is not falling out by the  handful. Yes, it's vanity for sure. But it's hair after all. The essence of being female and I actually like being female. And like the song says, Give Me a Head With Hair.