Today’s MOMfession is mine.
It’s the story of how I was diagnosed with Androgenetic Alopecia and how it’s changed the way I see myself… for the better.
If a woman’s hair is her crowning glory (well, the famous ‘They’ say it, so it must be true) then I am clearly not royalty. I, in fact, don’t even qualify as Court Jester. About 3 years ago, I went to see a dermatologist because my hair was falling out in chunks. Handfuls were coming out in the shower. To say I was distressed by this would be an understatement, but I calmed myself by reasoning that I had recently had a baby and it was clearly my hormones acting up.
After examining me, the dermatologist, with the bedside manner of all the mean girls from high school rolled into one, dropped this bombshell: “You have Androgenetic Alopecia and you’re going to go bald, but you’ll keep a ring around the back like a balding man and there’s really not much you can do about it. There is no cure for Alopecia.“
My mouth opened and closed. Then opened and closed again. Then I got up and walked out. Read the rest of this entry