"I have no idea what I’’m going to do. I neeeeeed my hair to grow back. I am so freaking done with looking like this. I’m meant to be going to Bianca’s birthday dinner this week but I don’t want to go. My hair loss is becoming so obvious. And there is no way I can be in any of the group photos. I’m terrified. I think I’m just going to bail at this point. Bianca is going to be so annoyed but I just can’t go out like this. It’s a nice restaurant and I’m going to be sitting there looking like crap.
Also- started started PRP injections last week. There’s been no change so far, well except for my scalp hurting lol. But I think this might actually work! Fingers crossed. The doctor thought it seemed really promising.”
This is an excerpt from a diary entry I wrote nearly a decade ago. God, who even was that girl? I feel so bloody sad that I spent so many years feeling like that. I remember how consuming it felt.
I felt like I was navigating my entire life around my hair loss.
I couldn’t go to the beach with friends.
I would spend so much time calculating how long it would take for me to get ready based on how long it would take to do my hair.
I skipped important events all the time because I was scared about how obvious my thin hair looked.
Back in those days, my relationship with my hair was like a bad rom-com - full of drama and disappointment. I remember standing in front of my mirror, trying every hairstyle under the sun to cover up the thinning spots. I became a master at the art of illusion, or so I thought. It was like playing a high-stakes game of hide and seek with my scalp.
Social media was another battlefield. Every time I scrolled through my feed, I saw friends with luscious locks, while I was strategizing my next hair camouflage operation. I remember one time, I tried using black eyeshadow to fill in my scalp. Spoiler alert: it rained that day, and let's just say my forehead looked like a muddy river by the end of it.
Dating? Ha! That was like going on a job interview, but the job was being someone with a full head of hair. I’d sit there, laughing and nodding, while silently praying they wouldn’t suggest a windy walk after dinner.
What were meant to be the best years of my life were taken over by my hair loss. Ugh. I wish I could have told 23-year-old Kimberly what I know now. I wish someone had of told me about the hair loss community. I wish I hadn’t of put off purchasing my first topper for so long.
But, I guess I can’t live in the ‘what-ifs’. All I can do now is be grateful that I finally found my way out of that dark place I was in. I wouldn’t be who I am today without this decade long journey or the people I’ve met from the hair loss community (and, of course, hair toppers 😉).
Kimberly xx (P.S. Those PRP injections? Total BS🤣)