I began this blog as a way to redefine, or perhaps rediscover, the beauty of ME after losing all my hair to alopecia universalis over 5 years ago. Join me in the movement to see ourselves and our world through a lens not offered by our culture.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Guest Blogger: Susan Beausang


Susan Beausang, founder of 4women.com and designer of the BeauBeau®.

"Fashionable Solution for Bald Beauties"

It was just another morning, like any other morning. I had just returned from my run and taken my post-run shower. I toweled off my wet locks and began to run my comb through my hair, and that's when my morning deviated from all previous mornings. I noticed large clumps of hair in my comb. I ran my fingers through my hair and my hand was filled with hair. Just like that – no warning –no illness – just shedding, shedding, shedding. Initially, doctors were as mystified as I was. They say third time is a charm and it in fact was the third dermatologist I consulted who diagnosed me with alopecia areata. He ended by telling me I would more than likely lose all of my hair. How right he was.
I had never heard of Alopecia and had never known anyone who had it. Among those words out of the doc's mouth that were hardest to swallow – "no known cause, no known cure." Lovely! He also warned me that the hair loss might not stop at my head, that I should be prepared to lose my eyebrows and eyelashes to boot. Dermatologist #3 knew what he was talking about. In just 5 short months, I had lost every hair on my body. Wham – life as I knew it just came to a screeching halt.
No one (with hair) can truly understand how hair loss can impact one’s life, via our self-esteem. Once an active, confident, stylish, involved and athletic woman, I became a self-conscious recluse with a desperate desire to get back to the old me. The overall lack of understanding amongst my friends and family only increased my feelings of isolation from them and from my previous life.
Yes, eventually the shock subsides and reality sets in that life will be lived out as a bald woman. The focus then shifts to how does one feel feminine and confident without hair? Is it possible? And if so, what's it take? For many, it's wigs, and that's certainly where I started on my quest for a feminine and fashionable solution to my hair loss. Who doesn’t try at least one wig when they first lose their hair? Many find them to be the solution they're looking for, but wigs didn’t cut it for me for many reasons. I actually felt more conspicuous and self-conscious in a wig and began to believe that the entire world knew my dirty little secret. My quest was beginning.
Next came scarves. My first trip to a "cancer boutique" left me right about rock bottom. I had lost my hair, but I wasn't sick. The last thing my self-esteem needed was a head topper that said "I'm sick and bald." Fortunately, "scarves" cover everything from bandanas and doo-rags to elegant, designer styles, so you'd think there would be options for we bald beauties. Think again.
As much as "fashionable" was my main objective, being bald entails addressing some unique needs. For starters, comfort is more important than ever when we're talking about a head wear item we might wear all day everyday. Security is a must too. We want to be in charge of determining when and how we expose our heads, so a head scarf that can fly away in the breeze or forces us to tie our shoes without looking down doesn't cut it. Who wants to retie, tighten, or make scarf adjustments at 5 minute intervals? Fine for that once in a blue moon style accessory, but not for those of us striving for bald fashion day in and day out. Determination is my middle name. If bald was to be in my future, then a fashionable solution tailored to my needs was too, even if I had to invent it.
I designed the scarf I was looking for, a scarf that addresses my needs as a bald woman and allows me to make a fashion statement, rather than a bald statement. Initially, I had no one in mind but me, but the compliments started rolling in when I would wear my scarves, along with suggestions that I market my solution to others. It didn't happen overnight, but eventually, the beaubeau® was born and I started an online business, 4women.com, to market my scarves to women and girls all over the world who lose their hair due to alopecia areata and so many other medical conditions. Being able to boost someone else's self-confidence, give them back their dignity, and brighten their spirits with my beaubeaus® is as close as I'll ever get to being grateful for alopecia. Through my connections to women and girls far and wide who are experiencing hair loss, often accompanied by life threatening or life debilitating diseases, I've learned to keep my own hair loss in perspective. I am grateful for my health and for the opportunity to help others rise above hair loss.

About Susan Beausang:
Susan Beausang is President of 4Women.com, Inc. and designer of the patented beaubeau® head scarf, a fashionable scarf specifically designed for women and girls. The beaubeau® unites the worlds of fashion and medical hair loss. 4Women.com's mission is to help women and girls cope with the emotional upheaval of medical hair loss with dignity and confidence and to advocate for greater understanding of the emotional impacts of hair loss. An Alopecian and a Previvor, Susan is bald but cancer-free. She strives to be a source of strength and hope for women and girls with medical hair loss. Learn more at www.4women.com, or email Susan directly at susan@4women.com.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

I Knew It!

One of the headlines on today's Yahoo! page took me to an article where I read the following:

"According to a recent survey conducted by Pantene, 60% of men surveyed would rather date a woman with great hair than noticeable curves — and 74% of them said they notice a woman because of her hair. In fact, a full 44% of male respondents said that hair was the first thing they notice about a woman… even before her clothes (26%), legs (25%) and makeup (4%)."

I knew it! Just when I was feeling good about my bald look...

Okay, two things. First, this was a poll done by Pantene, a company that makes hair products. As I teach my ESL students in my reading class, this is called bias.

Second, I'm married. Why do I care what men think of me when I walk out the door? Well, because my husband is a man. I want to be attractive to him.

This article, if true, is disheartening. I can't say I blame men, though. Hair is a beautiful thing. And if the article is false, a marketing tool and nothing more (which I suspect), it's sad that these messages keep getting perpetuated, making women with hair that falls far short of a Pantene commercial (or baldies, like me) feel inadequate.

By the way, ladies: what is the first thing you notice when you look at a man?

Seeing Ourselves





I am almost finished with a book called Long Time, No See, by Beth Finke. Beth is a woman who went blind from diabetes in her late twenties. Among many other fascinating details about her life, I was particularly interested to note that she took a job modeling nude for art students when she was in her forties (read about it here).

I'm sure a lot of you are thinking, as I did, that being blind would be a huge advantage for a nude model. You wouldn't have to face your audience, for one thing, and for another you wouldn't stare at yourself in a mirror agonizing over the rolls, wrinkles, ribs, etc. that you wished you could wish away. Blindness would be a liberation from caring what others thought! Right?

According to Beth Finke, being blind may actually increase your awareness of what you look like to others. In her book, she describes a heightened awareness of the clothing that was fashionable at any given time, not wanting to be pitied for being unable to see to dress herself. She also confesses to a great deal of insecurity about the nude modeling, although she was also curious to see if being blind would free her of the inhibitions most of us live under.

If I couldn't see, and therefore couldn't see myself, how would that affect my self-image? I can't even begin to imagine it, really, but I have a feeling I would simply transfer my anxieties about my looks to other aspects of my physical person, like how I walked or what my voice sounded like. I think I would be very insecure about what my unseeing eyes were doing and how they looked to people.

Another interesting aspect of Beth's life is that her husband confessed to being dissatisfied with a spouse who could not tell him he looked good. Now that's something I would not have considered. If someone you loved went blind and they could no longer give you affirmation about your looks, how would that feel? We like to think lasting partnerships are about so much more than the initial physical attraction, but that aspect never loses importance.

This post is really my way of getting the word out about this book, which is delightful to read, but I suppose there should be a lesson for us on redefining beauty. Obviously, there is a lesson here about not taking what we have for granted. If you think someone looks nice, tell them so (appropriately and respectfully, of course). I also think there's a lesson about trying things we never thought we could do, especially when it comes to gaining new respect for our beautiful bodies and their capabilities. Take a dance class, model for art students, take a risk with your wardrobe. Do something that pushes you to be in touch with your body in a way that will lead you to a newfound sense of self-respect. Don't do anything that you will regret, but don't let what you see in the mirror define you or limit you. After all, we say that mirrors don't lie, but the image they reflect is one we interpret with filtered lenses.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Pay Attention

Today I did Zumba bald again, for the third week in a row. I did my best to look extra feminine, with big earrings and a cute tank top--and I felt like I was working it. After class was over a woman who was there with her little girl came up and introduced herself. Here's the conversation we had:

Her: "My daughter was looking at you and she asked me, 'Mommy, is that a man?' I said, 'No, it's a lady.' I think she was trying to work it all out. Then she asked 'Why?' and I told her 'Maybe she's sick'."

Me, in my head: Why would you tell me this?
Me, out loud: "Oh, that's funny. Actually, I'm not sick. I have this autoimmune thing... blah blah bald..."

Gotta love kids, right? And moms who don't know what to say.

But you know, I have often said I would rather have people come out with their questions than to stare and look and never come find out my story. So I can't be upset when something like this happens.

It does shake me, though. It changes the way I see myself. DO I look like a man to other people? Years ago when I first started losing my hair, I went out with what I thought was a cute newsboy hat and a sweater that, let's face it, didn't exactly show off the fact that I was a woman. Someone on the street wanted to ask me directions, and he said "Excuse me, sir". When I turned around he stammered an apology: "Oh, sorry. I thought you was, you know, a male." Nope.

These incidents are deeply hurtful. I know they don't really mean anything, but they are really hard to laugh off.

I think, though, that these anomalies are just examples of people not paying close attention. I think that this man was thinking more about where he was going than the fact that he was actually looking at a "female" body. He was probably not aware, either, of the fact that newsboy hats were very trendy for the FEMALE population. Not his fault.

When my daughter was a baby, she had a pink car seat and stroller. You could see it from a mile away. And all her clothes were pink. AND YET...I still had people ask me if she was a boy or a girl! Not paying attention. Or nervous and saying stupid things. Whatever the case, it's more reflective of them and their assumptions than it is of me, my baby, or the images we project. Right?

In this morning's case, how can I blame a little girl for seeing a bald head and being confused about my gender? All of her princess books show pretty girls with long, long hair. So long your average clumsy adolescent would undoubtedly not be able to walk properly, given the weight of the hair and the proximity to the legs and feet. The only bald person she's ever seen may very well be her Grandpa Joe.

Whose fault is that? Has her mom been careless with the images she lets her daughter see and be shaped by? Of course not. As much as I hate it, the fact is that women in this culture have long hair. Or, if it's short, it's carefully styled to look like a pixie. Little girls know that pixies are, well, girls.

I have to accept the fact that I will always make people look twice. I just hope they look carefully.

And now to the issue of femininity. Am I contradicting myself by saying I want baldness to be more accepted for women, and then only going out bald when I am wearing tons of makeup and jewelry? Shouldn't I also be pushing for a less "decorated" or "modified" image of what it means to be feminine?

I don't know yet. I can't deny that it feels good to wear makeup and dresses and scarves and earrings and high heels. It just does. But these are additions, trappings that take effort to arrange. Shouldn't those things be like the sprinkles on a sundae? Yes, they give the sundae that extra flair, but the essentials of a sundae are ice cream and some kind of sweet sauce. And I suppose we could even argue what makes a sundae a sundae, but the point is that I don't cease to be feminine just because I don't have "sprinkles".

I'm working on this. I feel like this is an incomplete post, but I am still in the process of sorting out why I got so angry this morning when I am advocating for a redefining of what it means to be a woman. Hmm. Can I find the beauty in the situation? Is there beauty in being a woman who can be mistaken for a man?

I can't find it.

But like I said, if people can just pay a little more attention and try to process what they are seeing without the filters created by the media, then I think we would all see ourselves and others a little differently. I, for one, am going to question my assumptions when I look at people and pay attention to what's really there.




PS I'm not angry, really. Forgive the honesty of this post as I work out my reactions.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

The Power of the Spoken Word



"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me". What a crock. Words not only hurt, but they have the power to define who we are. I know, I know, they only have power if we give it to them. But let's face it, as humans we are moved, wooed, incited, charged, committed, destroyed, built up, and forever altered--by WORDS.

I wasn't called too many names in high school (mostly because people didn't really notice I was there), but the two that I will always remember are "hooch" and "flat-chest". I don't even know what "hooch" meant. I certainly didn't dress like one. I was the Puritan in my school. The only thing I could think of was the movie Turner and Hooch, with Tom Hanks and a really ugly dog. So yep, that one hurt.

I spent so much of my young life wishing I were one of the pretty girls, a girl everyone noticed. When I finally came into my own, I guess sometime in college (that was, after all, when I landed myself a boyfriend who would become my husband), I started getting genuine compliments about how I looked. And I believed them, mostly. Once I lost my hair though, I became starved for compliments. The end result of my alopecia has not been too bad, but the process was a long and grotesque one, a gradual stripping away of the long awaited marks of femininity: long, wavy hair that I had finally learned how to style, eyebrows that I had finally started plucking, and eyelashes whose flirtatious and mysterious qualities I was finally becoming aware of, thanks to mascara. Alopecia woke me up every day saying "You will always come up short".

Luckily, I have not heard any slurs or negativity since losing my hair. I have never been made fun of or insulted, at least not to my face. Even little kids just ask a simple "Why don't you have any hair?" and whatever answer I give satisfies them. We all know how insults hurt. Especially when they derive from something completely beyond our control. But I've been lucky--I haven't had to internalize much name-calling.

I have actually had the opposite problem. When I realized I would never again have hair (in my Entire Life), I decided I needed to embrace my look and accentuate what I still do have. I started wearing dramatic makeup 24/7, I bought clothes that were actually in style, I got some big earrings, and I rocked the headscarves. Still do, if I say so myself.

Here's the problem: my dream came true. People (more importantly, men) noticed me. I have gotten hit on so many times in the last year that I sometimes have to stop and just shake my head in disbelief, remembering the late bloomer in high school who thought she would never turn anybody's head. Now, I know how all this sounds. If you are even still reading, you might be humming a familiar Carole King tune right about now. And you're right--I'm so vain. The power of a compliment is, I think, underrated. I have become incredibly concerned with how I look, to the point where I look in a mirror every time I pass one, even inventing reasons to walk by one. Maybe we all do that. But I really feel that my whole identity lately has been hiding in my concept of how I look. It's like a starving woman who finally gets food, and good food at that, and then can't settle for the meager fare that she normally would have been grateful to have. Does that analogy work?

I absolutely think we should give each other compliments. And I absolutely think we should learn to take compliments from others. I guess I need to learn to take compliments at face value. Just because someone tells me I look good doesn't mean that person is in love with me, or that I am The Only Person they have ever noticed. Just because someone might actually be attracted to me doesn't mean that person really wants to be with me. I have conflated the idea that I am (finally) outwardly beautiful with the idea that I am a person worth complimenting.

Don't get me wrong--obviously, I have come a long way in loving myself and accepting the nice things people say about me. I am generally happy with my looks when I go out. (Taking everything off at night is another story for another post). But I've gone too far. I was so hungry for the affirmation of my feminine charms and beauty that I completely neglected the inner woman, the one people have to live with and work with and be friends with. That woman, unfortunately, is taking a really long time to bloom. The woman inside is vain, selfish, anxious, rebellious, lazy, scared, and probably some other things I haven't had the courage to look at yet.

No, I'm not fishing for compliments right now. I'm just discovering the power of words. Words have remade me into a woman who is confident that she really is as beautiful as people say she is. Please, if that is a message you have not internalized yet, start believing the compliments you get! People generally don't just make stuff up.

But words have also convicted me. Lately I have been told that I am beautiful, inside and out. And I want to run and hide in shame when I hear the word "inside". The truth is, I don't feel so beautiful on the inside. Yet. I know I am a good friend to people. I know I am a good teacher. But as a mom, a wife, and a spiritual seeker who professes to follow a humble and loving God, I have a lot of blooming to do.

It's a good thing we're entering spring.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

She walks in beauty like the night...

Tonight I went on a quest. I used to do this kind of thing all the time growing up in a Colorado suburban town. I used to sneak out of my house at night and go for long walks, always hoping an adventure would find me or fantasizing about a beautiful and romantic encounter that would change my life. Since moving to a big city I haven't been free to do that. But tonight I found myself restless, dissatisfied with everything I looked at in my home, and I knew I had to get out, even if for only a few minutes. Since it's still not too late, I decided to walk two blocks and then come back. I just needed to clear my head. I didn't realize it when I started, but I was actually looking for something beautiful. Something that would stir me inside. Or calm me. Not sure which.

Most people would look at my neighborhood and say I was in the wrong place if I'm searching for beauty. It's like a lot of city neighborhoods: mixed housing, diverse residents, traffic, not a lot of "nature" represented. But I found beauty! Yes I did. And it revived me. Here in this place that more often than not lately stresses me out, I had several soul-stirring encounters with beauty. The first happened when I stepped outside and felt a warm breeze. That first really warm night of spring, you know?! Totally reviving for the soul.

As I walked I realized I was hearing violin music. I walked until I found the window it was coming from. Talk about an encounter with beauty. Is there anything better than standing on a city sidewalk underneath a window with a silhouette of a man playing the violin in a way that sounds like singing? I mean, I was transported...somewhere. Paris is what immediately comes to mind, although I've never been there. I just imagine, though, that every street has its own window violinist. Anyway, for the minute I stood there listening, I remembered that I love cities because so many interesting people live in them. And it's hard to shut yourself away behind your door in the city, because there are so many windows and neighbors and activities. I love that.

I forced myself to move on when he turned toward the window. Being spotted as a "spotter" is not an encounter I want to have. I kept walking and I saw another set of windows. These were not lit by the soft, warm, indirect lighting of the violinist's; instead, these were lit by warehouse-type lights, bright white and beaming from directly overhead. College dorm lights will maybe give you a more accurate picture. Anyway, I could see beautiful portraits hanging on the walls (as in paintings, not photos) and, what made me actually stop and stare, there was writing on the windows. Have you seen the movie A Beautiful Mind? Remember when he writes his equations all over the library windows? Well, these didn't look like equations, more like quotes and conversations. They were too high up to read (not to mention backwards since they were written on the inside), but I did see the word "everything". I thought that was a fun way to live, writing thoughts on your windows as they occurred to you, or quotes you wanted to remember. The college dorm room turned into a creative, stream of consciousness studio. Cool.

Finally I made it out to the main street and I looked to my left. I saw green traffic lights lined up for a quarter mile or so, casting a vibrant glow on the street that suddenly seemed alive. Then I looked to my right and saw nothing but red lights, and the street looked seductive and mysterious. Same street, two different views. I love that. I love city lights at night. It's something not everyone would define as beautiful, and I love that too. City lights invite you to imagine all the lives being lived in this place where art meets work meets suffering meets beauty.

If you are feeling discontent with the place you are in, I challenge you to look around, go for a walk and listen, turn your head for another view. You might be surprised at the beauty you find.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Women's Day

Today, on International Women's Day, I really want to celebrate my womanhood. The problem is, I don't feel particularly "womanly" today. I am looking around at a house that I can't seem to keep clean and organized. I have clothes with holes in them that I don't know how to sew. I can't seem to keep my fridge stocked with enough food to make easy meals every night.

Where did I get this idea that in order to be a "woman" I had to be skilled in the domestic arts? I feel like a little girl who doesn't play house because she is too busy reading, or watching movies because she would rather live in a fantasy world than face all the ways her home has disappointed her.

Well, in one respect I do feel very much like a woman: I am an emotional reactor. I exaggerate, I overblow, I cry, I get giddy. All the things men love to scoff at. The problem here is that being overly emotional has turned me into Crazy Monster Mom lately. My poor kids are getting the brunt of my stress in the form of yelling, grabbing and belittling. I admit this with a huge amount of shame. I mean, I'm dripping with it.

So how do I celebrate myself as a woman today? I don't need chocolates, flowers or booze. I don't need pat compliments about how I'm actually a great mom and a beautiful, "womanly" woman. I'm honestly not motivated to clean my house and say "There, I've done woman's work".

What I would love to do is sit in front of an artist and have a portrait done. A portrait that shows me surrounded by my failures AND my accomplishments. Every woman has a big pile of both. After all, women (generally speaking) are the ones with the burden of nurturing. Nurturing any kind of relationship, even a relationship with the self, is not straightforward. It's messy and flexible and subject to all kinds of starts and stops.

Today, Women's Day, will be a day I try to nurture myself. I will do what I can do, and let go of the guilt I hold about what I cannot do. I will see the beauty in myself as a woman who does the best she can with what she has. I only have so many emotional resources, after all. Today I will do something to increase those so that I have more to give my kids and my family and friends.

(Disclaimer: this post may contain views that seem overly simplistic, sexist, and/or backwards. I apologize. I am speaking from the "natural order of things" I have grown up with.)

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Like It Or Not

Okay, I have to write about my zumba class again. For some reason I never seem to sweat at Zumba or get too hot. Well, this time I did. I was wearing a scarf on my head and I was feeling more and more irritated. I wanted to take it off so badly, but three things stopped me initially: one, there were men present (dads and hubbies who came to watch); two, there were kids present and I had no desire to scare anyone; three, we were learning a new move that involved some pretty sexy hip rolls, and I felt like I had no right to do a move like that bald. It just wasn't feminine enough.

Eventually I got too hot and I ripped off my scarf. My face got beet red (and I don't mean from the heat) but I focused on the teacher and tried to just have fun. And it was SUCH a relief to get that thing off my head. I actually felt like I had a huge advantage over everyone else with a hot, sweaty mop of hair on their heads.

I'd like to say that I ended up learning a lesson about the joy of being free to be myself, or about feeling beautiful no matter what I look like, etc. But honestly, I just felt embarrassed the whole time. I wanted to have myself a nice pity party.

After the class a friend told me that she didn't even think about the fact that I was bald. She said most people will notice for a minute, ask their own questions, and then move on. I'm the only one thinking about it the entire time.

I wonder if that's true.

Whether it is or isn't, I am feeling more and more strongly that it's time for me to get more comfortable in my own skin, literally. I have been answering my door bald a little more recently. I have been taking pictures of myself with nothing on my head just so I can get used to seeing it when I scroll through photos. Come summer, I will be stepping outside bald a little more. I am so tired of having to cover up all the time.

Some people undoubtedly appreciate the fact that I cover up. A bald head on a woman is probably pretty distracting in the classroom, or maybe even unprofessional. I am compelled to try my best to fit into the mold that is generally accepted in society. I don't resent that when it comes to my professional life. We all make changes to fit the dress code at work, whatever that code may be. As for my social life? Well, I'm getting there.

But I do resent the fact that when I want to feel good about myself, I still feel the need to put on makeup, big earrings and a wig (or, at least, a long scarf that can drape over my shoulder like hair). I know there's nothing wrong with those things, and I know we all need to feel good about ourselves, but I am beginning to question this message. On one hand it's fine to do something different and fun with your appearance and get a little boost of pride. On the other hand, the more you think you will only feel good when you "dress up", the more changes you will need to make in order to feel good about yourself. Am I completely misreading the message? Is there something inherently good about getting some feeling of self-worth, no matter how small, from your appearance? Certainly the idea has been around a very long time.

This is only an issue because we internalize the opinions of others. I feel the need to wear scarves and wigs mostly so that people will still see me as feminine. That matters to me. Some may argue that if it matters, just do it to feel good and stop making a big deal out of it. I guess I am trying to get around to the other side of the argument, the side where we (collectively) can change the rules about the kinds of opinions elicited by different kinds of appearances.

Don't misunderstand me, I'm not advocating a total abandonment of the lifestyle changes that make us healthier and happier. I just don't see why I should EVER have to feel ashamed of my bald head. If it doesn't fit the mold, then the mold needs to change. Especially since being bald is not something I chose, nor is it an issue of poor lifestyle choices. I have no choice but to accept the fact that I have no hair--everyone else needs to accept that maybe I don't want to be constantly trying to hide it. In turn, I need to watch for my own judgmental thoughts when I see people who don't fit the mold. Hairy legs in the summer? Go for it. Big belly hanging out of a halter top? I can handle it. If you are doing your best to be healthy and you are at that ever-elusive place of being comfortable and happy with the appearance you have, then we need you to step out and teach us about redefining beauty.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

What Little Girls See

Me: "Time to go to basketball! Here, get your tennis shoes on."

Five-year-old daughter: "Aw, I don't waaaaannnnnna wear those."

Me: "What? Why not?"

Five-year-old daughter: "They're not pretty."


Last year, this was not a problem. This year, every morning I have the same dilemma: what do I say to my daughter when she sees me spending 15 minutes putting on make-up, jewelry, and "fancy shoes", and then asks why she can't have holes in her ears or wear high heels to kindergarten. She has become aware that certain looks are pretty while others are not. A sweatshirt is not pretty, but three headbands (at the same time) are. When asked what matters more, beauty or practicality, she chooses "being pretty". That answer makes my skin crawl, but do I really show her anything different through my own choices? I do spend a lot more time on make-up than I ever thought I would before I lost my hair. I choose my outfits and accessories carefully. I am never without earrings, even if it's just a Saturday afternoon at home. I tell her it's all because I'm a grown up lady, and...well, my reasoning falls apart there. If I'm telling her that she is beautiful because her heart is kind and God made her to be exactly who she is, why should that stop when she grows up? From what she can tell, I'm sure, grown-ups define beauty by outward appearance. We have to look nice for work, we dress up to go out, etc. Daddies tell their kids to go up to their mommies and say "You look pretty".

None of this is bad. Kids (and daddies) should tell their mommies that they look pretty. You do need to dress appropriately for your workplace. It does feel good to dress up and go out. And bald women should absolutely get to wear big earrings all the time without feeling gaudy.

My problem is this: how do I communicate a consistent message of inner beauty and self-love to my kids when we live in a culture that has set certain standards regarding outward appearance? Little girls feel pretty in dresses, and everyone tells them they look pretty in dresses. And little boys hear that. Is that wrong? Where is the dividing line between self-care and vanity? Between feeling lovely and defining yourself by how you look?

My mom didn't talk to me that much about beauty. She never told me to do my hair a certain way or to start dressing like a normal teenager instead of an old lady (although maybe she should have). She herself didn't spend a ton of time on her appearance. I always knew my mom was beautiful, as all kids know about their moms. I saw people look at her with admiration. But I didn't see her defining herself by her looks. Actually my mom is one of the least vain people I know. What I did see was her ability to make people light up by paying attention to them when others wouldn't. I saw her build confidence by working her way up to a black belt in karate. I watched her own face light up whenever she got a chance to sing. And I felt totally loved and accepted for who I was, a late-blooming loner who loved laughing and dancing and, let's face it, moping and daydreaming.

I want my daughter (and my son) to feel completely free to be who they are. I also want to unapologetically do the things I need to do in order to feel good about myself. I am on a journey to define myself and see myself as beautiful, and right now wearing make-up and big earrings is part of how I walk out the door with confidence rather than crying about my missing hair. Since I didn't get to choose the alopecia, I at least want to choose the face I confront people with.

I have also chosen hair, at times. Last year around this time I bought a couple of really...bold wigs, for lack of a better word. One was black with blue streaks in front, and one was long and tri-color (red, black and blonde). I received a little bit of criticism stemming from the fear that my kids would grow up thinking blue hair was acceptable and appropriate. My reasoning was that I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and push myself a little bit, something that I think is always good. I also wanted to have something fun to wear out--obviously this was not something I wore to work. I did wear it to my daughter's preschool a couple times, with great trepidation about the kids' reactions.

They hardly noticed.

Sure, they asked why I was wearing it, then they went back to their games. If only we could all react to each other that way. Obviously my daughter will notice my hair and make-up. Obviously I notice when a woman has her cheek pierced. We notice colors and lines and shapes and images that do not fit our expectations. Big deal. Notice it, then move on.

Where am I going with all of this, you must be asking. I guess I'm trying to justify my behavior at home and reconcile it with the message I want my kids to internalize. I worry that I don't have enough integrity as a woman and a mother. I worry that my actions are speaking louder than my words and that my daughter will come to define herself by her appearance, as I basically have. My one consolation is that she already seems to have a much stronger mind and will than I have ever had.

I guess while I figure all this out, honest communication and open-mindedness are key, right? Let's hope so. Let's hope my daughter and I can define beauty together, helping each other to see ourselves and our world differently.