Circus lady

I'm about to make you jealous. Ready? Imagine this: a peaceful drive through beautiful green palm trees, the ocean at your side; sipping an iced latte poolside as you gaze out over a crystal clear ocean reef; the sun beaming down as you close your eyes and hear the sounds of kids laughing and splashing. Sound relaxing? It should have been. And I should be accustomed to people staring at my bald head by now. But I've never experienced the staring like I did this past weekend when I was on a mini-vacation. First, there was the drive. It's summer here in the Philippines, our car is black, I want absolutely nothing covering my head when I'm out. So there I am, sitting in the passenger seat, in the privacy of my own car, bald. We pull up behind a small pickup truck with half a dozen girls riding in the back. One is awake, the rest are sleeping. I already know she will see me and stare, but I'm not prepared for her to actually wake everyone else up by shaking them, just so they can all get a glimpse of me, the "freak". I ask my husband to pass the truck illegally just so I can get away from the gawking. Then we find ourselves at this great hotel with beautiful ocean views. I am ready to read a book, relax, and watch my kids have the time of their life on the water slide...but first I have to walk through the grounds and find a place by the pool. This is a picture of that day: I have never felt so conspicuous. People stopped what they were doing to stare at me. They were out swimming in the ocean and they grouped together, pointing and coming closer. And here, people don't look away if you catch them staring. They hold that gaze. I tried not to let it bother me, but I ended up hiding in my room more than I wanted to. My husband told me they were staring because I'm so beautiful. (Nice one, honey.) And that's what friends and family tell me. But there is this element of abnormality that people are taken by, and I can't pretend it isn't there. I myself have stared at people who have lost limbs or have skin conditions, not thinking they are "freaks" but just captivated by something so different than what I experience in my own body. And now I am one of those people. I can't hold it against anyone who stares. Of course they will stare. I am not normal. I know this will make many of you question "What is normal, anyway?" But we have to admit that there are norms when it comes to human appearance. There are healthy bodies, and there are bodies that have obviously gone awry. When we see something that testifies to un-health, we are bothered by that. It's a normal human reaction. Maybe with increased exposure we can come to a place of peace about the variations we see in bodies. But in a place where appearances really matter, like the place I find myself living in now, it really just stinks to be the freak. Again, my well-intentioned husband tells me to strut when I see people staring. But I want to crumple up and disappear. It's ironic, because in high school I felt so plain and unnoticed that I would sit at home and daydream for hours about being in the spotlight somehow. Well, I made it into the spotlight, like it or not. So I know I need to move from a place of wounded pride to a placed of weathered pride, the kind of pride that says "I have learned that I am beautiful because I was created and I am known by my Creator". But how to react to the stares? Sometimes I want to make a face at people who are staring. Sometimes I want to act more distraught than I am, just to shame them. These are honest, gut-level reactions I'm confessing. Usually, I pretend I don't see people staring. I just feel the heat rise in my face and quietly suffer from embarrassment. But maybe I should learn to smile graciously and welcome the stares. Maybe then people will see past the bald head to the character being formed. Maybe then the next time they see someone else with a stare-worthy feature they will be gentle, remembering that they once saw a bald woman whose "abnormality" made her tender, not bitter. This journey is a long one.

Here I Go

I'm back. I hate getting this behind on the blog, but in my defense I've had a few things going on that needed to take priority. The first was a trip to California, where my husband and I paused from life to honor our marriage of ten years. It was a beautiful few days in Santa Barbara. I will share one "alopecia moment" from that: On our last day, which happened to be my 33rd birthday(!), we went hiking in the Santa Ynez mountains.

 

The hike was amazing...and hot. I had my little hat/scarf thingy but took it off shortly after starting. The mountain breeze, when there was one, felt so good on my head. But twice we heard people approaching from the other direction, and I freaked out a little. I hurried to put my hat/scarf thingy back on before we crossed paths with any other hikers and then took it off again after they passed. What a silly thing to do! I just didn't want to face people bald. I have no idea why.

Then, on the way down, I tripped over a tree root and took a pretty nasty fall. I came the rest of the way down with bloody knees, a red, sweaty face, and black dirt all over me. We didn't see any other people the whole way down...until the trailhead, where a group of very cool mountain bikers were beginning the climb. I was so embarrassed. I tried to walk directly behind my husband so no one would see. And then, all of a sudden I got gutsy. Maybe I was empowered by these bikers who were taking on an impossibly steep and rocky trail, but I suddenly thought that maybe, just maybe, I might look like an intense hiker who really hit the trail hard core. Maybe I sported a shaved head by choice. And wow, I'm definitely not afraid to get dirty. I must have gone "off-road". That image of myself got me out from behind my hubby's back!

It wasn't so cool though when I had to go into a pharmacy down in the town and ask for bandages and a washroom. I was quite a sight.

ANYway...the other thing occupying my time lately has been preparation for a huge move. I'm moving overseas in September (AAAHHHHH!!!!) and I had to hit the ground running after getting back from California. Passports, banks, realtors, all that. Speaking of passports, here's another "alopecia" moment. I had two sets of passport photos taken: one bald, and one with a scarf. I read that your picture should reflect how you normally look, but that hats and such were not allowed. When I was submitting the application, I tried to get them to use my scarf photo. The guy asked "Is it religious?" Honestly, I was tempted there...but I said no, it's medical.

So my passport will be illustrated with my beautiful bald head. At least I got to keep my scarf on when I renewed my driver's license....

What They're Missing

Alopecia has a ripple effect. First and obviously, it affected me. I lost my hair, I suffered trauma from that which has yet to be fully dealt with, I have to grit my teeth and face the world bald every day.

From there, my immediate family has been affected. Two examples: first, on the night we discovered the Photo Booth app on our iPad, my husband and I were sitting on the couch with his sister and brother-in-law, and we were trying out all the funny distortions. My bald head standing out so brightly as we pointed the camera at ourselves was just too much for me to take. I couldn't look at the pictures. Then, of course we had to do the funny kaleidoscope effect, so the image of my white skull was multiplied and magnified. And I was...horrified.

The other example is not an event but a realization. Scrolling through Facebook today, I saw that many friends of mine took Easter family photos and posted them over the last few days. My husband asked why we didn't take one. Now, I'm not the kind of person whose mind immediately goes to "Let's take a picture" whenever there is an occasion to dress up or a special event happening. But since I lost my hair, the idea of a family photo instills a little fear. How will I look? Will I ruin the picture, either because my head is so white and unnatural-looking or because my scarf doesn't fit the occasion? On Easter Sunday I wore a cute new (from a secondhand store) yellow lace dress with a navy cardigan and navy flats. I was so excited to have put a new Easter outfit together, for the first time in years, that I forgot to plan what I would wear on my head. On Easter morning, it hit me that I had no scarves to match my outfit. I really didn't want to wear a wig though, because I had to be up front at church and I didn't want people to be distracted by the fact that I suddenly had a great head of hair. I settled for a beige scarf that didn't match at all but didn't clash so bad that it hurt the eyes to look at.

But now our family has no Easter photo to post. There are a lot of family photos we haven't posted because I don't want to be in them.

Moving outward, my alopecia has affected extended family and friends, largely for the reasons mentioned above. But also, as the ripples spread out concentrically, every person I come in contact with is affected by my alopecia because it is confrontational. It forces people to hesitate when they regard me, trying to decide whether or not to ask about my scarf or bald head. It gives people pause when they begin to talk about their bad hair days or the celebrity whose hair they envy. It makes people uncomfortable, even if to a very small degree and even if only for a brief moment.

I have, for a long time, wanted to keep the pain of this disorder for myself. My alopecia has been mine alone to suffer from. I have denied those around me the opportunity to voice what they have lost or felt because of this thing that happened to me. But I think it might(?) help me to allow others to come inside my grief bubble and sit with me. It may be easier to get out of it with the strength of a crowd.

Still grief

So. Apparently losing my hair is taking longer to "get over" than I thought. A psychiatrist (not one I'm seeing for treatment) recently told me that losing my hair was a traumatic experience that I have probably not dealt with enough in order to get full emotional healing. I thought "Come on, it's been years now. I don't love it, but I've accepted it."

Except that it occupies my thoughts a good 90% of the day. Even when I'm thinking of or doing other things, I'm keenly aware that I am bald.

Also, I have noticed an increase in nasty thoughts when I see women with long hair. Thoughts like "Do they have to flaunt it?" or "Come on, you're not being original." I hate the long hair trend these days. Long and straight. Boring. Unfair. "How dare you think you're so beautiful just because you can grow this long mop of hair?" "I hope all that hair falls out."

See? Nasty thoughts. So clearly I'm not "over" my hair loss. When I sit back and take stock, I believe it to be responsible for a major discontent that has pervaded and touched so many aspects of my life. Sure, I have always struggled with discontent and depression. But alopecia has added an extra dose of bitterness. I think this has affected my goals for my future, my relationship with my kids, and my marriage. No--I know it has.

So, what to do? Pray on it? Return to weekly counseling? I'm not sure. This blog helps, but it hasn't been the journey I had expected when I started.

For now, I think all I am ready to do is recognize my hair loss as a major, life-changing event that has had a profound effect on my development and identity. I need to honor that somehow. I wish photos of myself with hair had been digital. Alas, they are all on film. But I've tried to get some of those pictures in the best light I could with my phone.

This is a step in my grief process I guess. Going back, looking at myself with hair, and realizing that I really miss it. Grieve with me.


My hair used to bounce and sway to music. I could feel it on my back and I felt like a dancing princess.

My hair was adventurous, doing its own thing while being faithful to who I was. 

My hair was part of my allure, something he could touch and get lost in. A softness to complement his tough exterior.

 

 



 My hair was sophisticated. Changes in my hairstyle brought me into new stages of womanhood.

 

My hair went places and made great pictures.

 



 

 

My hair was my crowning glory on my wedding day. I had never felt so beautiful, so angelic.

 

 

 

To go from that to this

 

 

was jarring, to say the least. And it continues to be jarring every time I look in the mirror. After six years I still can't believe this happened to me. I had cut my hair short just before I lost it all, and I had been going through two years of bad hair days...but it was better than this.

 

I grieve. 



 

 



Brave(r)

I don't leave the house without eyeliner. When you don't have eyelashes you feel the need to fake it with makeup. I mean, why confront people with something that might make them uncomfortable? The only time I went without eyeliner was when I had pink eye. And I did my best to hide behind sunglasses for those two agonizing days.

Well, today I woke up with my eyes itching and decided to forego the eyeliner. Scarf, yes. Earrings, yes. Eyebrows, of course. But nothing around the eyes.

This takes guts for me. It seems silly, but it really takes guts. When I first lost all my hair and went back to my parents' house for a visit, I was self-conscious about walking around the house with nothing on my head or face. My mom said "You still look like you. It just looks like you have the flu." I really appreciated that comment in that moment, because I remembered that a pale face and lack of makeup doesn't change what we basically look like and how we are identified.

A few months ago, I was talking to someone (My boss maybe? I don't remember) and I was griping about having to put eyeliner on every day. She said "Well, you don't have to, but you feel more comfortable that way." I realized then that I'm not obligated to wear makeup so that other people don't have to face the awkwardness of looking at someone who has no hair. It's completely my choice.

So with those two comments in mind, I haven't put anything on today in order to give my itchy eyes a chance to breathe, irritant-free.

I did see a guy today who looked at me funny and said "Sorry, but I'm looking at--did you do something different with your eyebrows?" I immediately thought ("oh no, they're askew!"). But I think he was noticing the lack of eyeliner.

Until that little moment, and not his fault at all, I felt pretty comfortable about how I looked. I thought this morning that I don't look so bad without eyeliner.

I know that people who love me and support others with alopecia will comment and say I look beautiful no matter what. Regardless of what others say, it's very hard for me to see myself this way. But I get braver and more resilient every day.

By the way--I do think my eyebrows are askew! Haha...well, if it's not one thing it's another. Some people's eyebrows grow that way right? Stop focusing on it. ....

Further Proof

More examples of the selfishness of alopecia:

1. Work: A job interview is nerve-wracking enough without the added stress over what to do with this bald head. Between a bald head and a scarf, which will give off the least "harmful" impression? Alopecia practically forces me to go into an interview in a wig, which is, for me, the most uncomfortable way to cover my head. I shouldn't have to be thinking about that.

2. Vacation: To a certain degree, alopecia determines where (and if) I travel and which activities I do when (and if) I get there. Camping and hiking are okay but I don't want to take many pictures of my naked face. Makeup is not exactly a priority when you're in the woods. A cruise would be fun until the party at night, when I would again be faced with the question of which head covering (or uncovering) would look appropriate with the dress. I know it shouldn't matter, but it does. Really, I would only feel comfortable touring around a hip city where I could be comfortable in my scarves or baldness and look cool in pictures.

3. Cross-cultural family events: Pictures are important at family events, and in some cultures pictures are meant to show you at your best. Is a scarf good enough to wear to a wedding? Can I attend a graduation bald? Am I causing distress, distraction and disgrace by refusing to wear a wig?

Alopecia demands that I add these dilemmas to my already fretful mind. Selfish thing, alopecia.

Baldly selfish

Alopecia is selfish. It has a way of making life events and activities all about how it will look. Alopecia wants to flaunt itself but fears circumstances where it could be snubbed or rejected. Alopecia washes over joyous events with gray translucent paint, while highlighting in neon the times when we feel most disappointed or jealous.

My sister in law is pregnant. Seeing her pictures takes me back to my own swollen belly days. With my first, I was fascinated by every new movement. I was talking to the growing girl in my womb, my companion. I couldn't wait to get my pregnant belly full-grown.

Then, my body was hijacked by alopecia. With my second child, I was worried more about how my head looked on a pregnant body. I knew the sensations, I knew what to expect. But I didn't know how I would look as a bald expectant mother. What a contradiction--a woman who looks sick creating a healthy new life. I remember even worrying about how my son would look at me when he first opened his eyes. Without hair or eyebrows, I worried that he would fail to recognize signs of his mother's face, a face that should bear basic human characteristics.

With both pregnancies, I wanted to look like this:

(http://www.hartshornportraiture.com/portrait-gallery/pregnancy-photography/)

Although I had hair during my first pregnancy, it was of the short, frizzy, frumpy variety. (Sadly, those pictures were taken before we went digital. I'm sure I could dig them out of a box, but...)Despite my concerns, I think I looked way better as a bald pregger, actually. Not that I ever allowed pictures of myself bald...

 

 

 

 

 

Not the goddess on the beach, but my own pregnancy. And cute, I think--looking back on these five years later!

 

This is just one example of how I can feel fine about my baldness until I see a woman who seems to exude feminine beauty--and this is often due to her hair. That, and body shape. Oh, and I guess a great backdrop helps, too.

 

Once I see a photo of a woman that makes me feel diminished in my womanly features, I really have to work hard to get out of the funk and accept the features I was born with, having no choice in the matter. I have to acknowledge her beauty and wish for good health to continue for her, and then show some TLC to my own body and story.

 

I'm proud to say that, while the frequency of these jealous moments is no less than it ever was (let's face it, even before my alopecia), the duration of those negative feelings ("I hope her hair falls out") is not nearly as long as it used to be.

 

This reminds me of a future post. Winter has its banes for baldies: having to pile on thick layers of fabric on our heads to keep from freezing, no matter how heavy, etc. Now summer is coming soon, hopefully bringing heat with it. I don't know about other alopecians, but summer makes me anxious. How will I deal with swimming? Will my drawn-on eyebrows smear in the heat? Should I go bald to church picnics and Zumba class? More to come on this....

 

It's all about the baldness. Alopecia is so selfish.

 



Shifting

Maybe it's boredom, maybe it's maturity, maybe it's self-love. Whatever it is, I feel a shift in how I see myself--at least for now, and at least at home.

I have gotten so fed up with my scarves. The tying, the constant repositioning, the annoying sense of restriction that comes with constantly carrying a pile of fabric on my head. When I'm at home, I don't want to wear anything on my head.

The problem is, I am more self-conscious in front of my husband than I am in front of anyone else. But lately, I have watched myself in the mirror as I take my scarf off, and I end up liking how my bald head looks even better than the scarf. This is a new thing.

Baldness and fashion. I think part of this shift in thinking is that I'm not just seeing my bald head, but I'm seeing how my bald head works or doesn't work with my outfit. My theory? Summer fashions need scarves and hats because there is already so much skin showing. But my bald head looks sleek and daring when I'm wearing winter clothes.

Here's what I'm wearing today:

 Not bad, not bad. But when I take the scarf off? Look:

Pop! Pow! You can see my earrings, my neck looks sexy rather than flabby, and my eyes get more light!

Okay, maybe this wasn't really a good example, since I happen to love how that scarf looks with this shirt. But take my word for it--I have looked great bald in so many of my winter outfits.

I'm pretty proud that I can write this today. Tomorrow I may want to cry about having no hair again, but today I like my bald look.

The Contentment Challenge--Day 4

Looking at photos of myself will never be easy. I have just accepted that. I remember the day my fiance and I got the proofs from our engagement "shoot". I had been so looking forward to seeing them, because I had felt so cute the day we went out. But when I saw the results, I remember being mortified that I had dared to think I would make a beautiful bride-to-be in pictures. I think I cried in my room and hid the proof binders for quite some time, hearing my fiance knock on the door because he wanted to show his family the pictures. I was so embarrassed. What I had imagined as a playful giggle at the time turned up in one photo as a wide guffaw that resembled something you would only see on a farm.

(Photo retrieved at http://www.fotothing.com/SomersetDreams/photo/a8b1e626dc3bb52571a34d3b77625be8/)

What I thought was a relaxed stance looked more like the Hunchback of Notre Dame in the photos (I can only hope my posture has improved after that wake-up call). On and on the blows came. The pictures, through no fault of the photographer's, had not turned out the way I had imagined.

My pictures never do. A few years ago I had a friend of a friend take pictures of me in one of my favorite neighborhood spots...completely bald. It was a huge milestone for me (read my original post about my "unveiling" here.) But I similarly felt discouraged at my inability to look in pictures the way I imagine myself to look in real life.

So, today I choose some photos from that shoot to put on public display--and I choose to be content with the realities they depict.

Flaw I get hung up on: My earrings stick out like pirate hoops.
Reasons I am content: I have nice, long legs and a nice smile. Hoop earrings are made to stick out like that.

Flaws I get hung up on: One eye is smaller and squintier than the other. Major belly revealage. And those earrings...
Reasons I am content: I love that scarf. I love the angle of the horizon. I could be a shipping company owner here because I look confident and powerful.

Flaws I get hung up on: Oh, the blinding white orb that assaults my eyes. What a prominent skull. And the wrinkles abound. And the gums show forth.
Reasons I am content: I obviously really had fun doing this shoot. That's a smile I couldn't fake. And I really like that red jacket.

Flaws I get hung up on: Eyebrows are too manly. Freckles. Incongruence of dainty, feminine flowers juxtaposed with a bald cranium.
Reasons I am content: I love the light in my eyes. I love that I am standing in a lilac bush. Ah, I can smell them now...And I know each of those freckles. This is a familiar, intimate look at my face.

Flaws I get hung up on: That squinty eye again, those darn wrinkles, those big gums. 

Reasons I am content: I am seldom seen laughing like this! I look healthy. I really love the color of my shirt. 

So, there you have it. A set of photos that may or may not have been included in my original set. The process of choosing pictures was interesting. I wanted to pick photos that I cringed at initially, but I didn't want to choose photos that I have put in my "never see the light of day" folder. I didn't want to choose photos that I liked, because it would be harder to write about the flaws. Isn't that ridiculous?! 

But really, this has been a good exercise. The longer I looked through these photos, the harder time I had choosing ones that I didn't feel good about. 

You should try it. Look through that photos that make you cringe and find the reasons why you didn't toss them out. 

Mommy, you need hair...

Is bald pretty? Can a mommy be bald?

My 7-year-old daughter was playing with her doll collection the other day--a few Disney Princesses, a Skipper and her horse, and a couple Polly Pockets. 

 The dolls were having a party. Naturally, I hinted that I would like to be invited. The response was: "It's just for people who are pretty."  Ouch. "I'm not pretty?", I asked her. "Well, I mean you're not pretty like they are, because they have pink and purple...(voice trailing off)". 

I actually did have pink and purple on. I was in my pajamas, granted, but I had the required colors. 

A few weeks later, my daughter decided to draw a picture of our family sliding down a rainbow. 

I was at the stove, and all of a sudden she asks me, "Do you want me to draw you with or without hair?" Wow. I had never been asked that before! I told her to draw me without hair, since that's really what I look like. She ended up drawing me with hair (I'm up in the top left corner--can you see the curls on either side that look like short arms?) because "otherwise you wouldn't look like a mommy". 

I know my daughter loves me just the way I am and thinks I'm beautiful. She tells me that all the time. I know she meant no offense. But it hurts to hear those things, nonetheless. 

Still, I'm grateful (I think) for opportunities to challenge the "types" and the values we have absorbed from our culture. I'm glad my daughter will have to struggle with this concept of defining feminine beauty. I just hope Barbie doesn't win. 

Worth 1,000 words

"You're so beautiful."

"You can really pull off the bald look."

"Bald girls are sexy."

All of these lines and more have been told to me at some point since the onset of my alopecia. You'd think by now that they would have sunk in.

The problem is, a picture is worth a thousand words. And my identity and definition of beauty have been shaped by millions of images that don't reflect the truth of the words people tell me. I don't think in words; I think in pictures.

Pictures like this:



The princess with the long, golden locks shining in the sunlight. The dashing rogue kissing her in all her feminine loveliness. Well, if that had been a bald princess, the "man in black" would probably have fallen off the tower as his hand slipped off her smooth scalp...

Or this:


The mother of all hot kissing scenes. Sadly, kissing in the rain is not sexy when you're a bald woman. If you're wearing a scarf, it turns into a sopping rag plastered on your head. You can't brush that away from a lady's face. If you're wearing a wig, you turn into a wet dog--PLUS, the netting underneath shows through. If you happen to be sans headcover in the rain, then a wet mack session would turn into a manual slip 'n' slide for your partner. Maybe that would be sexy...but it's unlikely.

Ah yes, this one:



It goes without saying that this is an impossible look for a bald woman to pull off. And a scarf or wig in the wind? Too precarious.

Countless, endless images that do not represent me, yet continue to define what I want my life to look like. When I kiss my husband, I look at us from the outside and I cringe. Can you imagine a man kissing a bald woman and it looking even remotely romantic? Probably not. That's because there are no images of that to get into our psyche.

So, I'm on a search for some new pictures. Here are a few I found:


Rosanna Savone, bald bride and author of liv.luhv.rahyt (See it and love it here).


Kylie, another beautiful bald bride (read her story here).




Stefania Ferrario, model (check out her page here).


Sandra Dubose-Gibson, Mrs. Black North Carolina 2011 (See the full story here).


The only image I could find of a man kissing a bald girl...we need to work on that.

And, finally, I will add what I can to this growing bank of images:

A bald woman and a mirror. Not usually seen together.

So--if you find anymore for me, send them to redefinelabelleza@gmail.com or post them to my Facebook page!

The Many Faces of Me

My dear uncle-in-law recently gave me the gift of sight.

At a recent family gathering, I saw people huddling over something and pointing, so naturally I was curious. As I got closer, I saw a picture of my face. And then another one. And another.

I took a minute to scan the page, and realized that every one of the hundred or so pictures I was looking at were of me. A dabbler in photography projects, my "uncle" had put together a collage of sorts out of head shots he took from my Facebook page. It was overwhelming at first. Also overwhelming was the fact that everyone had been looking at the page and picking out their favorites before I had even had a chance to see it.

But the more I looked, the more special it became to me. I have often cringed at the sight of many of these photos, but seeing them altogether was different. I was looking at a portrait of a young woman who has a good life. Each picture is a separate memory, but as a whole the pictures come together in this beautiful harmony of features. Rather than pick out my flaws, I'm forced to appreciate the many ways my face can look. I feel as if I can see myself the way others see me. This is a huge breakthrough. I don't know if this makes any sense, so I highly recommend doing a similar project to any of you who have a hard time looking at self portraits. I think you'll find beauty in "you in the context of you".

Here, I share it with you now.

Obsession With Nothing

A couple days ago my sister forwarded me a link to this video:



Good Hair Day with Jennifer Aniston.
(www.livingproof.com/goodhairday)

Apparently there is a project in the works to collect women's stories about how they see themselves. This project is sponsored by a company that sells styling products and is endorsed by a celebrity whose hairstyles over the years have inspired millions of ordinary women all over the country to rush to their local salon and demand a look that matches hers.

The company purports to be all about boosting confidence and finding creative solutions to hair problems. And, as it turns out, the project is actually a contest. You get to submit your story about your own hair obsession and perhaps win a day with Jennifer Aniston...and get a haircut by her stylist.

Encouraged by my sister, I entered the contest. Yes, I did. I sent in this picture:


and I wrote this about my hair obsession:

My hair obsession began when I lost my hair five years ago to alopecia universalis. I never had great hair before, and I didn't have the tools or the confidence to do much with it. Once I lost it all, I realized how much hair had to do with my sense of femininity. I think we are obsessed with our hair not because we are women, but because we have been told that hair is a sign of vitality, sexual freedom, and popularity. We are obsessed with hair because it's one of the most salient features of our body. It is our crown. It is a sign of health and having the means to take care of yourself and pamper yourself. I try to deny that I care about not having hair, but I buy long scarves and try to drape them over my shoulder like hair. I haven't been comfortable in wigs, because I truly aim for integrity and loathe the feeling of being "fake". So my obsession is about how others view me due to my lack of hair. I have accepted my loss, yet I long to have what I think men desire.

I encourage you to enter this contest. Not just to meet Ms. Aniston, but to provide a multitude of perspectives on what beauty means to women all across the spectrum. I always think these contests end up misrepresenting women, because usually the ones who enter are women who want to meet a celebrity and get 15 minutes of fame. I could be wrong. But if a more eclectic smattering of women share their stories, perhaps we really can start to poke holes in the cultural narratives about beauty and the way women see themselves and desire to be seen. A cursory look at the other entries does show a great deal of diversity, but it doesn't hurt to add a little more. Or a lot more.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 30

Well, we made it! Thanks for taking this journey with me. For the past month I have tried to find beauty in places I would not normally think to look for it. I have tried to comment on beauty that often goes unnoticed or is not classified as such.

I think what I've learned from this experiment is that, notwithstanding a few deep-seated, cultural stereotypes about beauty, I actually find it pretty easy to recognize the beauty around me.

It's much, much harder to recognize the beauty in me and in the circumstances I find myself in. I keep looking all around me and seeing beauty...and wishing that I could possess it, somehow. I still don't think I've truly internalized the truth that others see beauty in me that they wish they could possess. We all want what we think we don't have, right? Most of us, anyway. We are discontent. Well, okay--at the risk of pushing some of you away, I will keep this personal. I am discontent.

I am aiming for that day when I can see something or someone beautiful, appreciate it, and then turn around and be thankful for exactly who I am and what I have in that same moment. That sounds like freedom to me.

So here goes. This morning I saw a mom at my daughter's school with beautiful hair: shiny black with copper highlights, falling past the small of her back, slightly wavy. I appreciate that I can look at her hair and appreciate the aesthetics without having to deal with that much hair to wash every day myself.

Okay, now I have to turn around:



Hmmm...well, I see a beautifully smooth shape, a curve that is aesthetically pleasing. I see easy maintenance (and most of the time I am extremely thankful for that). I see connection to sun, sky and cold that many people don't feel. I see soft skin that loves to be touched with gentle admiration. I see a blank canvas. I see a woman who is totally unique and will probably always be noticed.

Deep breath...wow, that was hard! Okay, now you try. Celebrate the beauty of YOU!

I will take a couple days off from writing but this month-long experience has created momentum for me to write more frequently, so I will see you back here soon.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 26

Fuchsia. Emerald. Chartreuse. Ferrari Red. Electric orchid. Cyan.

No, these are not the names of celebrities' kids. You are probably aware that these are all colors. Colors of what, though? Sports cars? Nail polish?

Yes, at times. But sometimes, incredibly, they are hair colors!

One of my best friends recently dyed her hair this vibrant shade of red that can only be modified by the adjective "shocking". It's absolutely fabulous. It's a short, spiky cut that was made for this color red. And it's not that I really love the color. It wouldn't have been my first choice for her, actually. It's the fact that she took a risk and steps out every day in confident vulnerability that I love.


(Obviously this is not her, but the red is the same.)


Today I saw two women with similarly unconventional hair colors, and I couldn't take my eyes off their heads. Both had incorporated this beautiful, bottled purple color into their natural hair color, with stunning results.


I love the fact that we have the capability of decorating ourselves with such audacity. Not that we need it--but we can if we feel like it. And in my case, I don't even have to get messy. I just go down to the corner, buy a $30 wig from the neighborhood beauty supply store, and I'm good to go.



My absolute favorite is the black and purple combination. I love black and purple hair.
It is so sleek and darkly refined, strong without being tough.


Some say coloring your hair this boldly is unnecessary, wild, rebellious, anti-social, disrespectful, and on and on. But in this age, I think it's nothing but an expression of personality, mood, and/or desire. It's all in how you carry yourself. I personally think it's great that my kids have seen me put hair on and take it off without making a big deal of it. My daughter will have to think of another way to rebel, because I would love it if she came home with electric blue hair one day!

If you could try on a funky hairstyle for a day, what would you try? I thought I would be the last person on earth to wear chemically-dyed hair, but I've done it and it is pure liberation. Here are some looks I want to try:





Any votes?