MY SO-CALLED BALD LIFE

I was 23 years old the first time I noticed that I was losing my hair. I had just gotten out of the shower, my hair dripping wet all over the tiled floor. When I began combing my hair, which up to that point had been unusually thick, I saw parts of my scalp I had never seen before. I threw my contacts in and peered closer into the mirror and there I could see about half of my hair was gone from the mid-section of my head. I know this didn’t just happen during that 4 minute shower, but this was the first time I actually looked and saw the first signs of going bald.

I wish I could say that I carried on with my day as usual, but I didn’t. I sat on the floor of my bathroom and sobbed while googling “how to stop going bald at 23.”

Google procured pages and pages and pages of different merchandise, techniques, and treatments to my problem. I started to feel better in that moment that the internet told me not to worry – it happens to all guys – and there is a solution.

The first thing I tried was to buy a trio of hair products called Nioxin, a shampoo, conditioner, and hair serum that would restore the dead roots while thickening the remaining hair. I used Nioxin religiously for about a week before my scalp started burning and turning red, making my hairless scalp more noticeable and incredibly painful. I threw them in the garbage and began searching for plan B.

Because I am rather dramatic, plan B was to get a full on hair transplant.

So, my mom and I traveled around Orlando to the different institutions that performed hair transplants (yes, I took my mommy with me). The first place we went to was The Hair Club – I am sure you have seen their ads on the subway or on TV at 3am. We met with one of the “doctors” there and had a brief consultation where she asked me some routine questions and then took a look at my “problem areas” as she called them. After viewing the empty patches on my scalp, she gave me the good news: it was curable by hair transplant! Although, the bad news was it would cost me $15K.

The other negatives of getting a hair transplant at the stage I was in was that when I eventually lost the rest of my hair, I would be in the same exact situation. The transplant would only take over the parts of my scalp that were currently missing, but in 5-10 years, the rest of my head would be bald and I’d have to fork over another $15K to Donna at The Hair Club.

We went to 2 other consultations, one at Bosley and one at a smaller firm – but all conversations were conclusive.

Over a two-for-one margarita at Chili’s, my mom told me she was not going to take out a second mortgage on the house just for my vanity. I then berated her for being incredibly selfish at my time of need and that it was her fault in the first place that I was going through this. “THE BALDNESS TRAIT IS PASSED DOWN ON THE MOTHER’S SIDE!” I yelled at her while ordering another basket of chips.

I ventured back online and searched for some cheaper options for overcoming baldness, which included pills, Rogaine, and sprays. I don’t really like taking medications, so that was a no-go, and Rogaine really only works on the back of the head, which is not where I was losing much hair (at that point), but the spray that was being advertised seemed pretty legit. I could get a bottle of this hair thickening spray for only $50 a bottle – that seemed pretty reasonable. I ordered myself a few bottles and waited patiently for them to arrive.

Once they did, I gave it a whirl, and I have to say it worked out pretty great. Once out of the shower, I would dry my hair completely, style it the way I liked, and then spray in the missing areas with this thickening spray. Once it was all set, I did a few sprays of regular hair spray to keep it in tact and I was ready to go! Sure, I had to carve out an extra 30 minutes to my getting ready time, but I finally felt somewhat confident.

Since these bottles of spray were not technically cheap, I had to savor the spray already in, which left me without washing my hair for a good 5-6 days. And when I went to sleep, I would have to lay a towel over my pillow and lay on my back, as to not mess up my hair or get the black spray on my sheets. By the end of the week, my head itched so badly I had to literally pat my head like I was a black girl with a fresh weave. It wasn’t ideal, but, desperate times.

I continued to use this spray for a good three years and had gotten used to the routine of not wetting my hair and sleeping like a corpse. Everything was going great until April 10th, 2015.

It was one of my best friends birthdays and we were all going out to a big dinner and then hitting up a few karaoke bars afterward. Because of the special event, I decided to wash my hair and re-apply my hair spray to look my best for that night’s festivities. The night went on without a hitch, drinking and laughing our way through dinner. After we paid the bill, we decided to visit a karaoke bar 5 blocks away. We headed outside and that’s when it hit me, literally: a raindrop. I started to panic and went into survival mode. I couldn’t get my hair wet – especially not on the first night of an application. “Why don’t we just take a cab over to the bar?” I asked to 12 drunk people who all moaned and groaned about it just being a little rain and the bar was just a 5 minute walk. What they didn’t realize was that my current condition was worse than that of the wicked witch of the west.

Falling behind the group, I decided to gun it to the bar. I haven’t run that fast since my junior high’s physical fitness test. By the time I got to the bar, I was drenched, as was everyone else. I thought everything was fine until my one friend, Elizabeth, came over to me and asked what was all over my face?

FUCK.

I grabbed a napkin from the bar and wiped it gently across my forehead, hoping I would nip this problem in the bud and get on with the night. When I looked down at the once-white napkin, I saw nothing but black. I ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror and I saw just how bad this situation was getting. Watery drips of black were running down my cheeks and onto my white button-down shirt, my entire forehead (except where I had wiped 2 minutes ago) was covered in an ashy black substance, and my perfectly styled hair was now falling flat, exposing that empty patch of hair I was trying to hard to hide.

I cleaned up as much as I could and just went home without saying a word to anyone.The next morning I woke up and my friend drove me to Super Cuts where I told the girl to “shave it all off.” And ever since then I’ve embraced my bald head. I now feel comfortable, content and, most importantly, extremely confident.