In a classic case of overbleaching, I recently melted a good portion of my hair right off my skull--what my hairdresser calls "the chemical haircut." Since then, little wisps have scattered daily, like slender autumn leaves. It was a dispiriting senstaion, and the only thing that saved my sanity was the fact that my undercoat began coming in immediately, assuring me that I hadn't destroyed my follicles down to the core.
Here's the damage:
I know, I look like a moulting chick.
I've got enough things in my life that are out of my control, so I gave up being blonde and got my first-ever crew cut.
It wasn't exactly a Britney Spears' breakdown, but let's just say I understand her a bit better.
Once again, I'm astonished at what a sheltered life I've led, lasting 43 years without ever having shaved my head. It's enormously liberating. No gelling into artful arrangements, no habitual checks in the mirror to see if it's been disarranged.
Plus, it feels soooo marvelous to touch.