WyzWmn's World©

I am bald.

I have androgenic idiopathic alopecia (who you calling an idiot?)…which means that the men on both sides of my family have male pattern baldness and the women on both sides of my family have female pattern baldness…and by the luck of the draw I inherited all those lovely genes. :-}

When I was young I had a huge head of thick, straight waist long hair. It didn’t start to fall out till I was in my 30’s but when it did it was devastating. We, as humans, tie way too much of ourselves up in how we look. In spite of what Mr. Pechkoff says, humans are vain by nature.

Round about the same time my hair started to leave, (just like Elvis) I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. Crohn’s in itself ain’t a bunch o fun…but one of the myriad side effects of Crohn’s is hair loss and low and behold guess what a side effect of the Crohn’s medication is??? (sure as hell you can bet it isn’t indiscriminate hair growth!!!)

When the first significant amount of hair loss happened (I was getting more than my fair share in the brush by then) I was sitting at my desk at my then job trying to puzzle out a problem in one of the departments and was getting frustrated. I put my pen down as I leaned on my elbows and scrubbed my palms over my face and forehead. When I looked up all of the hair that would have been my bangs (if I’d worn bangs but it was waist long all the way around) was gone. Well not exactly gone..it was lying on that frustrating document on my desk. Just like that.

Talk about freak out! In time it would be that I had some bangs but not enough for confidence…and then it all came out in two fist sized spots on either side of my head over my ears.

Over the years I became the queen of the comb over trying to hide the naked spots. I tried every product known to man…and got more and more insecure…for years I checked my hair (most specifically the bald spot on my forehead) at least every 20-min if not every 30 seconds. I used barrels and gallons of hair spray. It now makes me laugh that I could chastise people for making me breath 2nd hand smoke but I thought nothin of standing in that toxic cloud of hair glue several times a day. I always wore a beanie or a bandana under my helmet…cos if it looked so bad to me when it was fixed, can you imagine how I perceived it to look when I took my bucket off?

Women my mother’s age cried for me. Men just ignored me in general. To make a long story a little shorter…I became a shadow of who I was…always concerned about what I looked like (not that it ever made or helped me loose weight) I was self conscious cubed. For several years I talked about shaving my head…but was always afraid. I was afraid it would be uglier.

I made an appt Sept 11/01 after watching the news about the disaster in New York. It just seemed to me that the time for piddlin around had passed and I needed to take some big steps in getting my life back to what it once was. I took my mother with me and we had a little ritual with the lady that cuts my hair…sorta a comin out party…HA! we had a hair cotillion!!!

So now I shave it daily. I use no shampoo, conditioner, hair spray, hair color, dryer, brush, comb, scissors…the upside is that I do not check my head in the mirror a bazillion times a day. I got my sense of humour back and I could care less what other people do or say around me. I no longer feel like people are talking about me…but to me.

The down side is almost an up side as well. As a woman…who the hell knew you had to change your razor blades more than 2 times a year!!! :-} This is something that all men know… how many of you have heard the man in your household (partner, friend, son or lover) yell “who the hell has been cutting carpets with my razor???”

My helmet was a challenge, floppin around like it belonged to my big brother…till I went for a ride and discovered how cold the wind is on virgin skin…so I wear a medium weight stocking cap…and it fits better than it did before.

In general, people seem to see me differently. Women as a whole start out not being able to look me in the eye…the natural assumption being that I am undergoing chemo. And bringing the subject up is another one of those perceived societal taboos. On the other hand, men want to touch it, to rub my head. (If I’d have know that I’d have likely shaved my head 17 years ago…who knows…I mighta got a date!)

But mostly I have changed. I have now had a couple of years hair free. I still have the regular ups and downs of day to day life, but I have stopped worrying about how I look. It is liberating…and I love it!

when I get to reading someone else’s blog
I always seem to start out
with a feeling of guilty pleasure
like some sort of vicarious peeping tom

I start out with the altruistic thought
that I can somehow come to understand this person
thru the words on the page…

but what really happens
is that I come to understand
that the thing that makes us different
is the very thing that makes us the same

our need for love
and all the variations of same

people cloak the need for love
in all different manners
some with jokes
some with sex
some with food
some with guilt
some with fat
some with abstinence
some with shopping
some with shame
some with wit
some with vitriol
some with sugar
some with anger
some with nothing
some with the undying belief
that there truly is a happily ever after

so
did ya ever ask any of them happily every after’s
just what the fuck they thought about us?

those of us valiant few
who made the decision
to never compromise
to hold the line
to live our meager existence
to the fullest
alone?

Don’t laugh now…it ain’t funny

we really ain’t that different you and I
“if you cut me do I not bleed?”
yup…just you, me and Othello

it’s not like there haven’t been chances…
do I not have an ex named Dan?
and a double ex named Davie?
and a triple ex named Ron?
in retrospect,I’m glad I never actually married any of em…

sound’s pretty bad
when you put it that way
but truly 3-10 year relationships
for an almost 50 year old woman
ain’t such a bad record

and also truthfully
for a sick, tired, old, bald broad
I still get my share of offers
go figure?

but here’s what I’ve come to understand
at the ripe old age of 49
when I was young
and had waist long hair
and
legs up to here
and
a tiny waist
and
big round breasts
and black brown eyes
and men and women
followed me around like puppies

I was insecure

then came the accident
to my face
the new cheekbone and nose
and the more of the scars
(the visible one’s anyway)

in a split second my life changed

so I worked and worked
and worked some more
to get back to hotness

and when I did
it didn’t matterbecause
I was still insecure

I could never beleive
they wanted me
for me

the focus has always been
the looks
if not mine
then the look I present to others

and then way more life happened
(too much for this pitiable tale)
here I am 30 years later

and twice the size I once was
and bald
weak brown eyes

still insecure

so

I gotta laugh
I gotta laugh
cos…they may be coming to take me away…