 "Standing up at the front of the class, I peered out at my classmates. Aged eight, I was a confident little girl, but couldn’t help feeling slightly nervous. Taking a deep breath, I said, ‘I have alopecia. My hair might fall out.’ A few weeks before, my mum, Pat, had taken me to a dermatologist after discovering a bald patch, the size of a 20-cent piece, on the crown of my head. Officially diagnosing me, the specialist was unable to explain why I had the condition. I had no family history and I wasn’t experiencing stress, which can be a trigger. ‘You might lose patches or all your hair might fall out, it’s hard to say,’ he said, prescribing a steroid ointment to slow the progress. But within eight weeks of my diagnosis, my thick, luscious strawberry blonde hair had all fallen out. It was traumatic, as clumps fell out on my pillow, in the shower and even into my food. ‘I don’t want to lose my hair,’ I sobbed to Mum. ‘It’ll be okay, darl’,’ she soothed. Out in public, everyone stared at me. Most people presumed I was sick with cancer. At school I took it in my stride at first. But that all changed when I started high school. Suddenly, it was all about looks. My mates avoided inviting me to sleepovers, as they spent the evening braiding each other’s hair. I felt like an outcast. My nan, Margaret, made me crochet hats which I wore 24/7. I felt safe under the hats. They were my armour. At times, tiny tufts of hair would appear and I’d get excited, but then they’d fall out too. I also lost my lashes and brows, but luckily they both grew back. When I was 15, my hair started growing back much more than usual. Incredibly, after 12 months, my strawberry strands had grown down to my shoulders. Every time I ran my fingers through my shiny hair, I felt a burst of excitement. And having hair brought new experiences. Boys were noticing me and I had a surge of confidence. Starting a part-time job, I made new mates, not having to worry about my previous baldness. The next few years were bliss, I even got a boyfriend, called Chris. But when I was 21, I noticed my hairline was getting thinner. My heart sank each time I found a bald patch.
Desperately trying to cover it up, I’d wear thick headbands or put my hair in a ponytail. Eventually, my hair was drastically thinner and I knew I had to tell Chris. ‘It’s okay, I’m here for you,’ he promised. Soon, I was completely bald again. For the first time, I decided to get a wig. I opted for a suction wig, which fits securely onto the scalp. Putting on my new blonde wig and looking into the mirror, I felt great. Starting a new job, it meant I didn’t have to tell them about my condition. So I wore the wig everywhere, including when Chris and I got married in 2006. When I gave birth to our daughter, Isabella, I did decide to leave it at home – and my obstetrician didn’t even recognise me! No-one could say if Isabella would inherit my alopecia, but I checked her hair every day, desperately hoping she wouldn’t. And when our son, Michael, was born, I did the same with him. My own hair journey continued to be a battle, as it occasionally grew and then fell out again. I became quite obsessed, counting every strand that fell out. But I knew I couldn’t do this anymore. Hair was consuming my every thought. ‘I’m tired of living like this. I’m going to shave all my hair off and no longer cover it up,’ I told Chris when our kids were aged 11 and nine. Chris was cautious, but supported me in my decision. And when my best mate Nat shaved it all off for me, I felt utter freedom. ‘You look incredible,’ she gushed. I got stares when I was out, but I no longer cared. In fact, I felt empowered. ‘Beautiful, Mummy,’ the kids said. Six months later, having fully embraced my baldness, my heart dropped one day, when I was doing Isabella’s hair and found a bald patch. Also the size of a 20-cent piece, it was almost in exactly the same place as mine had been. Weeks later, she was diagnosed with alopecia. Knowing everything I’d been through, I couldn’t bear the thought of my little girl also experiencing it. Another six months later, we were dealt a second blow when Michael was also diagnosed. Now both my babies were going to go through the same thing I had. I was devastated. But then I thought about the fact I was now embracing and celebrating my own baldness. I could be their role model, I thought. ‘Hair isn’t important,’ I told them. ‘Look at me, I’m still doing amazing things.’ I even started an Instagram account @katslife_lesshair – hoping to inspire my kids as well as others. My attitude was ‘No hair? No worries!’ Unfortunately, both Isabella, now 13, and Michael, 11, have lost around 80 per cent of their hair. But I know that both my kids are strong enough to get through it. Whenever they feel down, I remind them that it’s okay not to have hair. We are so much more than our appearance." ~ Kat Hoult Comments are closed.
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