It was like any other night. I was laying in bed at my parents’ house over spring break, while Snapchatting my friends. I operated my fingers through my freshly-washed hair, and described a circle with my finger around the weird textured spot I had been feeling for the past couple of weeks.
Normally, I thought nothing of this odd-feeling place because I would touch it post-workout, when my hair was in a tight, sweaty ponytail. However, this time, I chose I wanted to see what the spot looked like for myself. I pointed the camera at the place and took a picture.
When I looked at it, I was immediately horrified. What the f* ck? I blurted out as I gazed at the picture. There was a bald place on my head, and it was as big as a 50 -cent coin.
Not knowing what to do, I Snapchatted the picture to my closest friends with the message, Happy spring breach from me and my bald spot. Still in shock, I strolled to my bathroom mirror and lifted up my hair to uncover my newly discovered, hairless patch.
As a self-diagnosed hypochondriac, my head was in its usual nation of health nervousnes. I went downstairs and calmly said to my mommy, Hey, I have a bald place on my head. My mom, who is used to my self-diagnosing, rolled her eyes and asked me to prove her.
I lifted up my hair. She immediately sent a picture to our neighbor a dermatologist who ironically enough specializes in hair loss and asked him to stimulate yet another home bellow. My mothers tried to soothe me down as I constantly asked them if I was going to die.
Everything on Google was telling me that I would lose all my hair within the next few weeks, and that I should start wig shopping. My neighbour came over and told me I either had a cyst or bump on my head, which caused my hair to fall out. If it wasn’t that, I had a mild occurrence of alopecia areata, which is an autoimmune disease in which your body attacks your hair follicles.
I exclaimed for days and obsessed over the place. It has now been almost two months since I have discovered it.
Turns out, I’ve grows quite fond of the smooth, bald patch that’s hidden by my long, dirty-blonde hair. The experience has surprisingly taught me a lot about myself, and “ve been given” unexpected new insights 😛 TAGEND
1. I wake up thankful every day .
In the grand strategy of things, a bald spot on my head is highly miniscule. I was born into a great household, have never expended a night at the hospital and live in a country where it is safe for a woman to walk down the street alone.
My little bald place has taught me to be grateful, and to enjoy the little things in life that so people may never get the chance to experience. Bad hair day? Hey, at the least I’m not going through chemotherapy and dealing with a life-threatening illness.
2. I realise how often girls talk about their looks.
For the first few weeks after my discovery, I became hypersensitive to anything hair-related. I began to count the times my housemates talked about shampoo, haircuts and their newest decide of highlights.
In no way are my friends vain, but why do girls constantly need to talk about what is going to build them more attractive? I’m all for trying new beauty tricks, but some girls do not appears to shut up about it.
What would have been a dialogue I would normally have contributed to had me rolling my eyes and wondering why nobody wanted to talk about why it was 75 degrees in February.
3. I see how much of an emphasis society puts on women’s hair.
I once heard that a girl’s best accessory is her hair. Yes, hair can be stunning. It can be styled with regard to every personality type.
But best accessory? Really? The sum of advertisements aimed at girls that claim to give them perfect hair is obnoxious.
Sure, everyone wants flawless hair. But I’ve had enough of the ads telling girls they need $20 conditioner to be confident in their appearance. The obsession seems silly, considering we will be grey one day.
4. I learned not to criticizeanother person’s appearance.
Pre-bald spot, I could not understand why anyone would think it was OK to attach hair extensions to his or her head. I frankly thought it was fake and tacky.
Then, I realized that one day, I might need them myself. Why should I care what anyone else does, as long as it stimulates him or her feeling comfy? I learned not to judge others for things I did not do myself.
We all have things we want to change about ourselves: hair-related or otherwise. If it induces person happier, who am I to judge?
5. Nobody is perfect.
Yes, we have all heard the phrase Nobody’s perfect, either in a “Hannah Montana” song or from an elementary school teacher. Everyone has insecurities, but it is up to us to decide how we react to our individual flaws.
Stop comparing yourself to a Victoria’s Secret model. I’m sure she did not wake up with soft waves and a glowing tan. I thank my bald place for reminding me that perfection does not exist, and that it’s OK to go to class with last night’s makeup on.
My bald spot has put my life into perspective in the best route possible. No matter whether I have hair the rest of my life or run bald, I’ll be OK.
It is only hair. In the meantime, I can grow out my hair and donate it to those who are bravely opposing maladies, or to those who were born bald and beautiful.
I do not stress the small stuff, and have learned to surround myself with those who love inner beauty. Seems may not last eternally, but character and gratitude go with you to the grave.