Alopecia
Alopecia isn’t pleasant, simply put. Whether female or male, it is not at all easy to comprehend alopecia. As a man, it is supposed to be easier to accept a bald head, but to lose facial hair, body hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes is a completely different situation. 5 years ago, when I was 19 years old, my hair fell out of my scalp, and unlike the natural androgenic male hair loss, I went completely bald in less than 3 months. Considering I had a full head of, maybe, 100,000 hairs, it’s a bit of an understatement to say I lost it quickly. Natural male hair loss is often a gradual process spanning years.
It takes its toll on mental health and I feel that is something that isn’t often acknowledged unless you either experience it or know someone who has it. It is one of those conditions where someone can just look at you and think, ‘I’m rather glad that isn’t me’. As a chronic introvert, it became harder to walk into a crowded room, lecture theatre, shop, café, pub — the list goes on — without feeling a chronic sense of uneasiness, wondering what every other person thought of my odd appearance. Nonetheless, it was and is a fact. I have alopecia. I avoided this word at all costs for a long time in a sense of denial, hoping desperately that it would return by its own choice and then continue life without ever acknowledging it happened.
What also didn’t help is that there isn’t a single bald man in my family either! My dad, his dad and my mum’s dad all have/had a full head of hair so I was very much the odd one out! The only person who was completely bald was my Granny during her chemotherapy treatment ten years prior. For the first three years, my scalp hair regrew after 3 months — although the sides were too shy to — and then fell out a few months later — a consistent cycle. Then a couple of years ago, it fell out and hasn’t yet returned from whatever journey it is enjoying without me. And as time went on, slowly, my facial hair, my eyebrows, and my eyelashes started to thin.
And thin.
And thin. December 2021 — gone. I am hairless. Oh, Christ.
It is at this point that things changed inside me. I experienced much more anxiety, but not the kind where I locked myself away. I knew this wasn’t healthy for me so I continued to go out with friends, and go to work in my customer-facing heavy role. But there was a continuous sense of anxiety and paranoia about what others were thinking, especially the crueller ones who thrive on demolishing your happiness for a second. ‘No, I don’t have cancer’. ‘No, I’m not Uncle Fester’. I won’t wear my Harrington jacket anymore for fear of looking like a Neo-Nazi — I think I made the right decision!
However, it is a case of realising that this is the card I have been dealt. I look like this, other people look the way they do, I don’t judge. It’s unlikely they judge me. Changing my mindset was key to acceptance, no more denial. Enjoy life, who cares, hair isn’t the be-all and end-all. Yul Brynner was bald and everyone liked him, so why can’t I feel as confident as he did. I am content with the way I look now, understanding that this is me. I am content to feel content. I don’t wish to keep writing, at risk of coming across self-pitying, which isn’t true. I just wish to put across the fact that it isn’t easy to experience this condition, whether male or female.
