foxydaisy

One of my best friends has alopecia. I guess she's had it since she was little. Usually, in times of stress, she would start to get a little bald patch on her scalp maybe the size of a silver dollar. Her hair's thick, so she would just comb it over or wear hats, and it would go away in a month or two.

Last summer, she started to get a patch, but it didn't get better. It got worse and worse. By the holidays, when it hadn't gone away, she started seeing the doctor about it. He basically gave her some meds and told her to wait it out. The meds didn't help, and a second patch started.

It got so bad that she started wearing hats EVERYWHERE. I was one of her only friends who knew about it, so whenever she'd hang out with me she was so happy to be able to take off her hat and know I wouldn't care. Once she told me, "I'm glad you don't care about my bald spot..." I asked her why I'd care and gave her a little smooch on top of it. She grinned so wide I thought the top of her head was going to fall off!

Still, it got worse and worse. Her hair was noticeably thinner, even wearing hats. It would hang out the sides, all stringy. She started talking with her parents about getting a wig, and they took her to pick one out. She was nervous about the wig, and a few people could tell that her hair was different, but she just told them she put extensions in. We'd go out for drinks, and she would get so paranoid that people were staring at her wig that she'd drag me to the bathroom with her to make sure it was on straight.

The other day, I was at work, and she came in to get some lunch. She told me she was having the worst day of her life, and that she was so depressed. "I feel ugly when I look in the mirror. I can't stand having to wear this damn wig all the time. It's like an itchy hat that I'm never allowed to take off." I felt so bad for her. I gave her a big hug and told her that she's a beautiful girl, and that her hair couldn't change that.

Then she asked me, when I got home, if I'd cut off all her hair. I asked her if she was *sure* that's what she wanted, and she said yes.

So I did.

I had her stand in the bathtub, and she took off her wig. She barely had any hair left, almost like she was exposed to radiation. I used scissors to trim down her hair to a few inches, and then started buzzing it to the skin with my clippers. She was trembling, and I told her, "It's ok to cry if you want to." Then she started sobbing while I finished.

When I was done, she looked in the mirror and ran her hands over the skin, then turned to me and hugged me for about two minutes. I ended up shaving it close with a razor to get rid of the stubble, and it looks really sexy! The best part is that she likes it, and she has her confidence back.

She had me go out with her that night to a club, and she sure turned some heads. She was grinning the whole time like a giddy schoolgirl. At one point, I asked her how she was doing, and she told me, "When people would stare at me before, I used to get so freaked out that they were looking at my hair, that it was crooked or something and they could tell it was a wig. I was so paranoid. Now, people still stare, but at least I know EXACTLY what they're staring at."