hair, vanity and the echos of a birthday missed

this is a post about hair. a vain post.

once upon a time, just after jeff died, i was living in a small cabin with a tiny bathroom. the bathroom had a white linoleum floor. each day after i showered, i would clear a big wad of hair from the drain. and after drying my hair, i would use the dryer as a whiskbroom and blow all of the many shed hairs into a corner so i could gather them up and throw them away.

more hair fell out

and more

and more and more and more

until i could no longer be unconscious

i could see my scalp, developed a very bald spot in the back

and it just felt like one more thing that was falling apart

the doctor told me it was from the intense stress, and would likely grow back

and, over time, much did but far from all. one by one they'd poke through, then spend months as tiny hairs that stuck straight up.

i still had thin spots, but could mostly ignore them by not looking

or when i couldn't there was always the option for a pony tail.

i'd lost hair before-- two rounds of accutane in my youth had cut my insanely thick hair down by half

and earlier stress had caused some localized loss, and the regrowth had been so jaggedy, i would unconsciously pull them making a bad thing worse

ok

so here i am, hair falling out in alarming quantities

wads and gobs and hairs everywhere everywhere

i know it is expected, 3 months post partum, but it sucks to have it happening right now (no good time, really) when it feels like one more thing falling apart.

me, specifically.

i'm fine really

amazingly great in the obvious and miraculous ways of della and doug

but more than a wee bit stressed about the myriad transitions and potential ramifications of this,that and the other thing.

doug told me he would still love me if i go bald, but i think this is all about me

coincidental echoes from a very difficult time

that began with job issues, house issues and then all came apart.

yesterday jeff would have turned 52.