If there’s one ever one thing that I liked about myself, it’s hair. It’s part of the identity package that I have. But just like my life, that too has been on such an adventure.
I love my hair now then I have been. I’ve gotten to the point of really taking care of it. But it is frustrating when I come from a line of fine hair. It greases very easily. That’s one of the peeves that I just cannot stand. I wash it everyday, I know that can often damage it but I can’t shift the idea for leaving it, only when I don’t have the time to shower, which is rare of course. From when I was little, hairdressers were a nightmare for me. Thankfully I don’t have any memory of this time, but I know a few would happily mention that I could go as far as being dragged just to try and get me out of the house. In the end, we have had a mobile hairdresser that comes to us to this day. I wonder if it’s more of a comfort thing that it was better to do it in your own home. It’s familiar, whereas you go to the hairdressers, it can be unpredictable. Although there wouldn’t be that much you could do with mine. Until I was eleven, I had a bob with a dodgy fringe, oh my world…the fringe! When I think back, most of the girls had that haircut. Either cute bobs were the trend, or because we’re Autistic, we couldn’t be trusted with our own hair. Not that I blame them. I did at one point decide like most children to cut my own hair. My mum was furious, she asked me why and just like any child the response was ‘I don’t know’. No word of a lie, that kinda makes me smile that I was that stupid.
So I started growing my hair when I was eleven. I was sick and tired of the bob. But as it grew, the subtle gurls came through. Now back then, natural curls where an absolute no-no in society. Man I wish I didn’t listen to society. So I would grow down the straighteners route. What would be my downfall was that I didn’t care of my split ends as I didn’t like using sprays because of the scent. I’ve never liked the colour of my hair. It’s very bleh. Being a massive fan and of Amy Dumas, I wanted to turn my hair red. A very ambitious move, but when you’re in your teens, that’s the period where you try and stand out. I suddenly became Sarah with the red hair…not that anyone called me that! I loved having the red, applying was difficult. I couldn’t do it myself so mum would have to. I think it almost killed to be honest. Terrified that it might stain my scalp. I suppose that was the second part of my downfall. It wasn’t until I reached into my late teens when everything changed. Within the course of two years I lost a good chunk of it. It made me miserable. The one thing that made me…well me…was falling apart. I was in the last two years of specialist sixth-form so it would be apparant as to what caused it, yet I would be surprised as how.
I ended up getting an appointment with a specialist whilst I did a three day stay at Sheffield before I moved over about a year prior. Now I can’t recall what the official name of it was, but the guy described as ‘male patterned baldness for women’. I mean if that’s not embarrassing enough right?! I was heartbroken. I was recommended to go on a particular type of the pill, take iron tablets and use hair drops. After two years, nothing really changed. I did stop using hair dye aswell so overall it can make anyone feel really shitty. Later on after I put on so much weight, I had to change pills because the doctors were worried about the ones I was using. So these new pills were stronger, but I was beginning to lose more hair. At this point, the very middle of my head was beginning to be noticeable. I even cut my hair to a pixie haircut, but that made no difference, if anything it looked worse.
Just be you, Sarah x