Do you ever get out of the shower, look at yourself in the mirror and shed a tear? Because I do. Every morning I am faced with the horror of my hair becoming thinner and thinner. I am losing hair at an alarming rate and I don’t know how I feel about it.
It should be a crime to lose your hair at a young age. Arrest my ancestors for passing down these genetics. I always thought this would be a problem when I reached the age of 40 or older. I mean, my hair isn’t falling out but it is thinning and it’s only a matter of time before I am bald or that my hairline starts to recede at a rapid rate (which I am afraid that has already begun). The news feed on my Facebook makes suggestions for hair loss products or deals on hair implants as if it knows.
I buy thickening shampoo for my hair and before I moved I stole my mother’s hair products and still… nothing has seemed to work. They say hair loss affects four out of five men by the age of 70. Well, I am 24 years old, this should not be happening yet? The likely reason is because of genetics and by the looks of my mother’s side of the family… I am doomed.
My father has more hair on his head than I do – it’s longer, darker and thicker and I am envious. I shouldn’t stress over this because stress is another cause of hair loss. So, unfortunately, am stuck and if I didn’t feel old, I do now.
Perhaps my premature hair loss is a part of my too-old-for-my-own-good attitude.
I start my mornings with some Dolly Parton, blaring 9 to 5 on my drive to work and finish the day off with some Norah Jones, as I cook myself some dinner.
I get excited when I go into the city because I know I get to go to Winners, where I can spend hours looking at home decor and shoes. My favourite aisle is the candle aisle. God, how I love a good candle. Perhaps, I am a bit weird or I just act like a polished old queen.
There has always been this mature-like mindset. I was never that teenager looking forward to my 20s, but instead my 30s. I want to be settled into my career, financially secure and own a house, preferably with a four-legged companion whose name is Brutus that sits and wags his tail as I sip coffee on the porch in the morning.
The perfect Sunday afternoon would involve mowing the grass and watering the plants following a cold beverage after all of that strenuous work in the yard.
Don’t get me wrong, as much of an old-soul, thinning-hair-millennial that I am, there is no rush. I will get there eventually and to be honest the more I think about being in my thirties, the less attractive it looks. So for now, I am going to enjoy my 20s while I still have hair.