Real Life The picture that means so much
Losing her hair was Karen Green’s worst nightmare, but she found a way to cope
When I look at a photo of myself from 10 years ago, beaming into the camera, my hair shiny and full of body, where I once would have felt sadness and grief I now feel pride over my pretty, blonde, shoulder-length locks.
I’d always believed my hair was my crowning glory, and I’d think nothing of regularly spending a small fortune to get my luscious locks looking their best.
‘How much?!’ my husband, Viv, then 47, would grimace when I confessed the cost of my latest cut or blow-dry.
But I didn’t care, whether I was going to a wedding, a birthday party or had an important work meeting, if my hair was looking good, I felt good. So, in June 2011, when I noticed clumps coming out in the shower, I immediately started to panic.
While I was used to one or two strands coming off, now I’d end up with several tangled around my hands, and my brush started filling up, too. Even though I knew it is common to lose slightly more hair as you get older, this seemed drastic.
My doctor suggested maybe I was anaemic, but a test came back normal, and he said there wasn’t much more he could do. Only, by now, even Viv and my sons, Daniel, 31, and Robert, 29, had noticed my hair was thinning, so in desperation I paid to see a private doctor, who diagnosed me with alopecia. The realisation that I was gradually losing the hair I had always felt so proud of,
and couldn’t do anything about it, was devastating, and I struggled to face up to it. Every clump that ended up on my pillow or wrapped around the plug hole felt like another piece of me falling away. My hair was so much a part of my identity – part of who I was – I couldn’t bear to lose it. And it all happened so quickly, with no chance to come to terms with what was happening.
‘Who are you?’ I sobbed in the mirror to myself two months later, when I was completely bald.
And with no eyebrows or eyelashes, I felt completely unrecognisable from the confident woman I was before.
I started to hide myself away, avoiding lunch dates with friends or finding excuses to stay at home. Even when I tried on wigs, I never felt ‘normal’, they scratched or just didn’t sit right. I felt ashamed and humiliated.
It was only through counselling that I began to accept the condition. Gradually,
‘MY HAIR WAS MY IDENTITY’
I realised I was still the same person I always was, with or without hair – it didn’t define me. And because my friends and family refused to treat me differently, it was easier for me to accept myself, too.
Then, in April 2014, I came across Freedom Wigs, which tailors bespoke hairpieces for people with hair loss. Weeks later, my lovely shoulder-length, dark blonde wig arrived, so similar to my own hair you’d never have known the difference. I loved it, and my confidence returned.
In November 2017, I became a trustee with Alopecia UK and I became an independent agent for Freedom Wigs – and, with Viv’s help, we launched our own business, Fantastic Hair.
We’re supporting others with alopecia as much as we can, because I know only too well how devastating the diagnosis can be.
Visit fantastichair.co.uk or follow @Fantastichairco on social media