I’ve started to describe my scalp as ‘open plan’
Zoe Lyons is reminiscing about filming the first series of her quick-fire BBC2 quiz show, Lightning. “I’ve quite enjoyed the cliche of being a game-show host in my shiny suit, having my bald patches painted in by a make-up artist,” she quips.
While she’s quick to make jokes about her alopecia, a condition that is thought to affect around eight million women in the UK, the 50-year-old comedian has struggled.
She began noticing her hair falling out not long after the start of the pandemic in 2020.
“A lot of dermatologists and doctors will tell you that alopecia is an autoimmune disease and kick back against the idea that alopecia is stress related, but I know that, for me, it is,” says the Mock the Week regular.
“I mean, nobody has had a glorious two years, but I had various things that were going on at the time that were very traumatic and stressful. The pandemic meant I wasn’t working and staying home all the time made my domestic life quite difficult, so my wife Sindy and
I separated for a while – though I’m happy to say we are back together again now.
“I think lockdown put a massive magnifying glass on life. If there were any issues there beforehand, they came glaringly into focus when you’re forced into isolation with each other. So it was a perfect storm.”
The warning sign was a small, round patch of missing hair at the back of her head – something Zoe has had on and off since childhood.
“The first time I experienced hair loss I was 11 years old. My parents were divorcing, which was fairly traumatic. I remember my mum brushing my hair one day and saying ‘oh wow’ – it was like there was a nest of hair in the brush.”
It wasn’t something that resolved itself quickly.
“My hair came out quite badly over a couple of years and I had major bald patches,” she recalls.
“They tended to be at the nape of the neck, which meant they were easy to hide, but I also got one right at the front of my head. I looked like I’d had a frontal lobotomy.
“As I had long hair we used to weave it across in an elaborate comb-over to hide the bald patches, though it was very wind dependent.”
It meant Zoe, who lives in Hove, East Sussex, knew what to expect when the first handfuls started falling out two years ago.
“I could tell it was going to be significant this time,” she says.
“It started with a small patch on the top of my head, then at the nape, and then it just kept going over the course of a year.
“By the time it grows back completely, I will have essentially lost all of my hair, just not all at the same time. It moves across my scalp like a sort of slow, hirsute eclipse, making a brave attempt to grow back in one place while another sheds.”
Although she was more prepared, Zoe has still found this latest episode upsetting.
“This is the worst I’ve ever had and I’ve found it really distressing,” she says. “I know it’s just hair, but it’s incredible how much you have and how long it takes to come out.
“So every day you are gathering clumps off the floor, off your pillow, out of the shower. That, to me, is the worst part. Now it has stabilised I’m all right, but while it’s coming out, it’s really tough.”
Most friends and colleagues are supportive, but Zoe has been on the receiving end of a few daft comments.
“People say, ‘have you tried not being stressed?’ and I reply, ‘I’m holding clumps of my own hair in my hands, it’s very difficult!’
“You can’t not stress because when you look in the mirror, you don’t see you any more. I’ve never been terribly vain, but I really like my hair.”
Unfortunately, there’s no straightforward cure. “I’ve had some shocking treatments,”
says Zoe. “Injections of steroids only work for small patches, so because my scalp is what I describe as ‘open plan’, I tried steroid tablets for about two months.
“The doctor said, ‘they’ll give you quite a buzz’ and I thought, ‘I thoroughly enjoyed the clubbing scene in London in the 1990s, I know what a buzz is’.
“But I clearly did not because I could have painted your house twice over – while crying – in the space of half an hour. They sent me loopy.
“I was hyperactive, they destroyed my stomach, there were several nights
I didn’t sleep at all. It was absolutely horrific and had no positive effect on my hair whatsoever.”
After that, she tried topical immunotherapy.
“They use chemicals to make your scalp peel to confuse your immune system into attacking the ‘eczema’ instead of hair follicles. So once a week, while my wife and I were separated, I’d have to come home so she could paint acid on my head! It’s really uncomfortable. After a month
I decided I’d rather just be bald.
“My other option was immunosuppressants, but they’re not a brilliant thing to start taking during a pandemic [because they reduce your ability to fight infections]. Also, you have to pay privately and they cost about £1,000 a month for about 10 months. There’s no guarantee that once you stop taking them your hair won’t just jump ship again either.”
Instead, Zoe has concentrated on making changes to her lifestyle in the hope of preventing further episodes.
“I take lots of exercise and my stress has massively reduced,” she says. “My key thing this year is to maintain a sense of balance, eat well. I also take supplements because there’s a lot of research about the links between gut health and autoimmune diseases.
“I’m seeing little sprouts of recovery now, so it’s just a case of biding my time and creating a healthy environment in which hair can grow.”
Lightning starts on March 14 on BBC2 at 6.30pm
The stand-up comedian tells Amy Packer how stress brought on severe alopecia during the pandemic
Every day you gather clumps off the floor, your pillow, out of the shower