July 19, 2023
You might want to grab a Cuban espresso for this one, dear readers. My fingers flew across the keyboard this morning and many, many words were written…
Denial, that clingy barnacle of hope, was finally pried loose on July 14th, leaving behind a raw, throbbing wound of truth. This post is my surrender, darlings. Denial and I waltz no more. Let's rewind.
Friendship, my superpower
Friends. Once you're in, you're in, even after a decade of radio silence. For me, this is even true with my exes (although some undoubtedly earned a swift boot to the proverbial curb). I like to look at all my past relationships through a lens of lessons learned, not grudges held. I tally the laughter, the shared secrets, the "you really get me moments," and thank the universe for personal growth.
But back to the exes
Enter stage right, a long lost flame. A very handsome, funny, successful "hot lava" kind of old flame… This one happened to be coming to Florida for business and asked if I would be interested in having dinner. Being over 50 and single in South Florida doesn’t leave a girl with a social calendar that is bursting at the seams, so clearly, I said, “Yes, indeedy”.
(Or something as similarly midwestern as that.)
That week leading up to our non-date dinner, I was doing what any girl might do prior to seeing a long-lost ex: self tan, mani/pedi, teeth whitening, deep conditioning the hair, but something was really gnawing at me. That damn hair falling out everywhere. At this point, accusations against my poor dog were wearing thin - these hairs were 14 inches long and clearly mine. Panic gnawed at the edges of my denial, whispering anxieties I refused to voice, fearing they'd solidify into truth. But I persevered, put some lip gloss on, and headed to Naples for dinner.
One enchanting evening...
I’ll spare you the Taylor-Swift-esque gush of feelings that I had that night, reconnecting so easily with someone I loved for so long, but I can say that it felt...magical. A soul-warming reunion with a long-lost flame, the kind that ignites memories and makes you believe you can still find love again. It was a balm to my wounded heart, still healing from a cross-country move for a man that probably never should have happened.
But it was a single moment that night that made me pause, stopping time, where all my neurons kicked in and somewhere in my subconscious, the storyline was all coming together.
It was just a "little thing", in hindsight. It was the simplest of gestures, but one that I felt like I lived through in slow motion. One of those visual memories that you know will last in your brain for a lifetime. In a silent, gentle move, he leaned over and removed a hair that had fallen to my sleeve. That singular motion burst my denial bubble. It was a soul-crushing, frontal-lobe, there’s-no-going-back-now realization: I was losing my hair, and a part of me, along with it.
I'm never eating acai again...
The night ended with a heartfelt hug and a long, lonely drive home where the only soundtrack was the chorus of "what now?" I went home and crawled into bed.
The next morning I awoke hopeful, happily munching my way through an acai bowl after a great Peloton sweat session (#thundersquad), when the moment struck.
I felt it. A warm "phantom" tickle on my scalp.
Cautiously, I touched the area, bracing for bloodied fingers or, worse, a leech (childhood mud puddle trauma, don't ask), because there was definitely something moving across my head.
But no blood, no leeches. Just a chilling realization that sent shivers down my spine: "No no no no no no no no. That can't be. THIS. CANNOT. BE." My hand followed that bead of sweat dripping down to the nape of my neck, where I traced along a barren patch of my scalp, smooth as a baby's bum - a bald spot right there on the back of my head.
Time stood still and denial finally flickered out, leaving behind the gaping hole of truth: I was indeed losing my hair.
Thank you for staying tuned, darlings, and don't forget to subscribe to hear the next chapter in this follicular freefall. The bald revolution starts now, and I'm bringing you along for the ride, tears and all.
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