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Ever since about 39 years of age, my hair has been coming out in greater numbers every day it seems. I know I shouldn’t preoccupy myself with it for many reasons. The most important being that my older sister is about to lose ALL her hair temporarily, thanks to the ravages of chemotherapy to treat breast cancer.
Though I must admit it does still bother me and sometimes, when brushing or washing my hair, it seems as though there is so much hair in my hands that I fear looking in the mirror. My deepest fear is that I will look into the mirror one day and see only 6 or 7 hairs left on my head.
I know the chances of this actually happening are very low, but still, I do continue to be alarmed by the accelerated hair loss. I have visions (or nightmares) of Kojak staring back out at me from my mirror. I also worry that my mother’s prediction that we children would end up “bald, fat, and toothless” might indeed come true (I thought I only had to contend with the battle of the bulge since I go to the dentist regularly).
As I mentioned, my sister’s impending hair loss puts my paranoia in perspective. At any moment, her hair is due to fall out, and not just on her head. As much as I hate having to get my eyebrows “done” every four weeks, at least I have eyebrow to get “done.” And even though I shudder at the thought of the pre-vacation or summer bikini wax, I definitely want it “all” if it has to be “all or nothing.” I don’t think we realize how much our own self-image is tied up with our hair until we are faced with losing it.
For her part, my sister says she is not too worried about the hair loss and is planning on just putting on a hat or a scarf and not going the wig route. She has had her hair cut shorter in anticipation of the big fall out. On the bright side, she is happy not to have to shave her legs. This is the one obvious benefit from chemotherapy during the summer season.
So, I am going to appreciate my hair, all of it. That includes the stuff that keeps falling on the ground and making my bathroom look like the floor of a hair salon after a cursory sweep. After all, at least I have hair to pick up after.
