crucible of ennui

Apparently it’s Alopecia Areata.

The doctor gave me a topical cream to help regrow the hair. (The only thing that would be better than a topical cream would be a contemporary salve. And then a news-worthy ointment… say ointment 5 times fast).

He said that if the topical cream didn’t work - there were steroid shots that should probably work. I don’t know about you… but I don’t think I’ll be lettin’ someone poke a needle in my scalp anytime soon. I may just have to change my nickname to Patches if it doesn’t grow back. There’s also the chance that it could get bigger and I lose more hair. Like I said before, if that happens, I’ll shave my head and wear a cool gypsy silk turban with some funky, jingly hoop earrings. Mecca lecca hi, mecca hiney ho!

Glenn said he would be freaked out if I got eyes tattooed on the back of my head. He said that even if the hair grew back he’d know those eyes were there and it would be creepy. And heaven knows I don’t want to psychologically scar the man.

I don’t think it’s a big deal. But I think a lot of people do. I was ordering lunch and bent over to look in my purse and the lady behind the register gasped. Like a really LOUD Bugs Bunny “GAAAAASSSSSP!!!!” kinda gasp. Like she’s never seen a woman with a little bald patch.

I also told my boss what’s going on and we both admitted a morbid fascination with the whole circumstance. There’s a perverse side of me that is super curious to know what I’d look like without hair. Do I think I have enough confidence to pull off that look? Hell yeah I do. (Disclaimer: The previous sentence is not a challenge to the powers that be to strike me with total baldness tomorrow. Please.)

The only bad news from the doctor was high blood pressure. I asked him if maybe it was high because of, hmmm… maybe… my hair falling out?!?!?

For the next two weeks I need to gather data and send it over to him and then make a follow-up appointment. In the mean time - No salt; I have to lose weight; I need to exercise; And finally no hooch of any kind.

Crap. And I was going to give up idiots for Lent.