I’m a Totally Bald Woman

I am a bald woman, if you haven’t noticed. And when I go out in public, most people don’t see either. Sure, some kids may take a second glance, but that’s to be expected. It doesn’t bother me at all.

Being a bald woman has advantages, and being a bald woman in the South has its own special kind of favor. Being bald in this Alabama hell heat is a huge benefit.

Think of the money and time I have saved from not having to go to the salon or buy haircare products. I no longer stress over a bad hair day or whether my bald spots are showing.

I wish more women with Alopecia were good about shaving their heads AND about going out in public.

Thinking back on my journey, I didn’t have that much trouble deciding to shave off my hair. It was a timing thing for me. I told myself that once I could not pull my hair back in a ponytail to hide the bald spots anymore, I would shave it off.

At the time, I was wearing and trying out a lot of wigs. Back then, I thought I would “have to” wear a wig all the time, and I didn’t want to “have to” wear a wig all the time.

So, when I finally had it with my vast spots and found lots of hair all over the bathroom, I told my husband I was ready every day.

I wanted to go buy some clippers and have him cut off what little I had left. But he suggested we go to a professional—his barber—instead. And that is exactly what we did.

Immediately after stepping off that barber chair and seeing myself in the mirror, I felt so happy and relieved. I didn’t look half bad! I made my first appearance as a bald woman when we decided to go grab lunch when we left the barbershop. Hell, I didn’t even wear the ball cap that I brought along with me. I felt like myself, relieved and happy, and the stress fell away.

When I had to go to work the next day, I had planned to wear a wig. But my daughter saw the pictures on Facebook, and he said, “No, you should go like that, go bald, no wig. You look great.” And so I did just that. I went in bald.

I’ve been going bald ever since. Sure, once in a great while, I would wear a wig. But it wasn’t to hide anything; I wore wigs as an accessory or a style statement, like new shoes or a new handbag.

I much prefer going bald. I feel way more comfortable and confident with myself than I EVER have.

Some people might approach me and ask about my lack of hair. They all assume I have cancer and going through chemo. Most seem physically relieved when I tell them it’s just alopecia. They always go on to share with me about their experience with cancer, usually breast cancer. And I always listen with compassion because everyone needs to share their story.

On rare occasions, if someone approaches me about my bald head without assuming I am sick, they always share a compliment. That makes me feel good.

Going through this hair loss, I joined Facebook groups for hair loss support and wig groups. You might be shocked to learn there are a LOT of women going through this, and it breaks my heart to know that probably 99.9 percent of them are appalled, dismayed, and anxious over what they might look like without their hair.

When (and why) did we put so much emphasis on our hair?

Again, I wish women experiencing hair loss could come to terms with it, be okay with it, and go on and rock that bald head! You are beautiful!

More about Carol Marks.