My hair is falling out. Again. Right on cue: it started four and a half months post-natally, just as with my son.
The first clue: my ankles swimming in water during the shower. Turns out my twice-monthly rummage in the drain was no longer sufficient to stop the repulsive build-up. Bleurgh.
The second: an increasing sense of parental negligence as I untangle yet another rogue hair from the tiny grasp of my baby and wonder if I will ultimately be responsible for the loss of a digit due to prolonged lack of circulation.
The third (and a bit more obvious): clumps of hair coming out in my hands when I wash. (What do you do when you have hairy hands mid-wash? I always stick the hairs on the shower wall and then scoop them all up at the end and put them in the bin. Except when I forget. When I first went on holiday with my now-husband, then-boyfriend, we stayed in a shitty room on an island in Thailand, where the shower was about a metre from the bed. I caught him one day, looking perplexed and disgusted in equal measure as he watched me washing my hair. It was not the look of love/lust I was hoping the holiday would elicit. After the shower, he asked somewhat tentatively, “why do you pull out your hair and stick it to the wall?” Ha. He was so fucking relieved when I told him the hair had fallen out and I wasn’t some sort of budding Emin, using my own bodily products to daub offensive art on the walls of hotel rooms.)
The fourth (and ultimate insult): my Dracula-style recession. Ugh. This bit is the worst. My fringe hides it a bit from the front so I can delude myself that I look ok but every now and then I catch sight of my profile in a mirror or shop window and realise I have an expanse of forehead between my increasingly-sparse fringe and the rest of my hair. I’m not even sure it’s strictly forehead if it is that close to your ears. Sidehead? Anyway, I am not confident enough for this shit. My hair is usually the one thing I can console myself with when I look in the mirror. But not now. It looks and feels awful.
Still to come: flaky scalp. FFS. I actually had to ask my best friend the other day if she could please be on the look out for dandruff in case I should be too tired/in denial to spot it. Last time it was horrendous (but I was able to mask it mostly by wearing grey knitwear and being perpetually covered in baby vomit). I bought a Philip Kingsley scalp tonic that helped a bit (maybe) so I have that waiting just in case the same thing happens again.
As well as looking totally shit, my post-natal hair feels crap too. The products that I usually use seem too thick and heavy; my hair is lank and dull. I had been using a free sample of an Oribe styling cream that made even my brittle mop feel like spun silk, so I investigated, only to find it costs FORTY FIVE ENGLISH POUNDS. Man alive. To make matters worse, it’s so good that it’s got me wondering if maybe the accompanying shampoo and conditioner would CURE my sad hair. Just what I need: the world’s most preposterously expensive hair regime.
I am going to take some vitamins too. I eat a fairly restricted diet because of my kids’ allergies (another story) and I’ve been promising myself and my husband I’ll take some supplements for a while. I’ve ordered Biocare’s Femforte capsules and a Vitamin D spray from Victoria Health (along with a few things to try from The Ordinary 🙊). Perhaps I should also try some fish oils or something.
Help me, internet friends. Is there anything else I can try? Could you perhaps shame me like Cersai walking the streets naked in Game of Thrones if I am disgusting enough to spend that much on hair products? We wouldn’t hardly even need to hack much of my hair off for an authentic GoT walk of atonement.