In September 2016 I chopped my hair off. It was long, naturally curly and fell down well past my shoulders. The ends were dry and it was falling out at the roots. I thought the cut would slow the thinning, stop the breakage and make it look fuller. So on the weekend before one of my best friend's wedding, I showed up at the rehearsal dinner with hair to my chin.
I was a bridesmaid, one of nine girls in the wedding party. I was already dreading getting my hair done for this wedding. I thought about it for weeks. I knew I wanted it to be straightened with loose curls which would require a blow out. If you have thinning hair, you know that one of the worst things is having people see your hair when its wet. There is no hiding it then. It is one thing to be in a salon full of strangers with wet hair and its another thing to be in a room full of friends and worry about what people are thinking or going to say.
The wedding was in a small town near Buffalo, NY. The couple met on Tinder a few years back and my friend had made the move to Medina from Toronto. Since the wedding wasn't taking place in Toronto, it wasn't possible to get my hair done by my hairdresser, or at a different salon because there was only one hair salon in this town.
I made a point of asking for the first appointment, which would ensure that less of the bridal party would be there to see this private mental breakdown in my head and I could just get it over with. Since there were so many of us and only one hairdresser, I wasn't able to get it washed and blown out, which was probably a saving grace. I woke up at 5 AM and washed and blow dried it straight as best as I could. The young hairdresser used the flat iron to smooth it out and put in loose curls. All was well and slowly my anxiety lessened for the moment.
In the next chair, another bridesmaid was having her makeup done while a handful of the other girls were trickling in and were sitting behind us, watching, gossiping and sipping on mimosas. I thought I was in the clear, my hair done and no mention of it thinning or the hairdresser asking if I was ill, which is a fear I had. I was mistaken. Suddenly it felt like the room went silent and all eyes turned to me, as what felt like shouting, the stylist asked the make up artist for brown eyeshadow to cover up my bald patches. As soon as the words came out of the hairdressers mouth, I wanted to die.
She took the eye shadow and applied it with a small makeup brush to my scalp. I was humiliated. She made a few comments about it filling in some spots but I wasn't listening. I was holding back tears.
This became the moment that changed everything. I vowed that I wouldn't let this happen again. I would do something to stop my hair from thinning.
The next few weeks began my journey into regaining my self confidence through taking control of my thinning hair anyway I could, which gave birth to this website.