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The original was posted on /r/twoxchromosomes by /u/rejs7 on 2023-09-06 13:11:26.

The greatest cosmic joke ever played on me was the day I realised I was losing my hair. In May 2019 I was in downtown Boston walking past a bookshop, I fluffed the hair on the back of my head and realised there was a bald patch. When I got back to my hotel I checked the mirror, saw that it was fairly sizeable, proceeded to have a half hour meltdown, and then for the next ten months grew used to the fact I was going bald. I had always idly wondered what it would be like to lose your hair, and as it happened to me in slow motion, I had plenty of time to reflect. By the spring of 2020 it had all gone, just in time for lockdown and long moments staring at myself in the mirror.

Many women lose their hair due to illness, cancer treatment, genetics, or auto immune disorders, so I am definitely not alone in this. Yet, there are moments I look in the mirror and fail to recognise the face I have sans all hair. Even as it is not belatedly growing back, the rich hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes I used to have a vague memory that get served up occasionally by Facebook, a world before. The strange thing is that I am not angry or bitter about it, rather, perplexed and resigned, knowing that if I get angry at the situation it will lead me to chase the dragon of wanting my hair back. Yes, it is a bit zen to say it, but in accepting my body as is it has helped me get over the trauma of the initial hair loss.

I am not going to say it is easy or that I feel pangs for the lost me, that is not true. There are moments when I see hairstyles and gorgeous hair and I get wistful for it. I always make a point to compliment someone’s hair if I think they look great because I feel that fleeting knowledge of enjoying hair in the moment. Yet, there is never jealousy or envy, simply appreciation. It is hard to put into words, probably compersion, seeing the joy of others brings me joy.

A few weeks ago, I went into a hairdresser to see about getting a haircut to address the wispy strands that are growing back, and as I stood there a panic attack welled up inside of me. A sudden dread that even sitting in the barber’s chair would somehow result in all my hair going again. It was the first time in three years where I felt raw panic about my hair, and after thanking the very kind hairdresser, I fled the shop, taking twenty minutes to regain my equilibrium. No comments ever triggered such a response in me, and it showed that I have not really come to terms with losing my hair, only gotten good at compartmentalising it.

The great irony is that everyone around me has been nothing but supportive. I am treated with dignity and respect, as the woman I am. No-one has made jokes, no-one has taken the piss, simply treated me with dignity and grace. Some joking with me would be welcome, as I said, I see this whole situation as a giant cosmic joke. Yet, I understand why people treat me the way they do. It is not often someone loses their hair just because without any underlying medical complications. I would rather use humour to disarm a situation than treat it with morbid seriousness. Maybe that is just me.

One of the biggest lessons is keeping out of the sun, or at the very least wearing a decent hat. Being bald and in the sun is not a great combo, and going scarlet is never a good look. Another is that wigs and hats are not my thing. Yes, I could wear wigs if I chose, but I have sensitive skin and prefer to wear nothing on my head over being uncomfortable. It is hard to be precious about my looks when sensitivity means that I had being itchy or restricted, so I do not wear make-up as a rule either. Loosing my eyelashes was the biggest blow, though, as I loved to do my eyes with a bit of liner and mascara to make them pop. Some habits were ingrained, including putting perfume in my hair to make it last longer. All those small little things about being a woman in the world that were no longer possible.

And this for me was the biggest lesson, what do I actually consider important about my looks and my personal grooming. I definitely took my hair for granted, it was one of those things about me that was just there. I did not have a single grey hair when it all went, something that I had a degree of vanity over, yet once it was all gone I would gladly trade it all back for snow white hair or a head of greys. I miss it, miss it like a part of me had gone and is struggling to come back. I have hair in my dreams, soft hair that I brush and stroke, as if my mind has not switched or is resisting reality. I then wake-up and it is gone. Such an odd feeling.

Yet, as with all things, hair was only one part of me. If being resilient is getting on with life then I am being resilient. I do not feel resilient, I feel defiant. I feel defiant at my body for putting me in this position, determined to live life to the fullest, and damn those who see me for only my hair loss. What matters is living with the body I have, accepting myself, and knowing that my body is my own. Yes, I may have lost my hair, but not my sense of humour or sense of wonder. Who knows, maybe in a year I will write another post about my hair completely coming back and the crazy hairstyle I have. Here’s hoping.