Part 19: The Great Resignation

February 22, 2024

Remember that whirlwind Nashville work trip from way back in August?  Seems like a lifetime ago, but here we are in February and another work trip beckons – this time in Los Angeles.  (My how time flies when you're having fun grasping at straws looking for ways to grow your hair.) 

Packing for this trip, I realize I can't really take my wig stand, my trusty wig muse.  She is now one of my best friends and confidants, having watched my hairless life unfold.  I order up a foldable replacement for her (reminding her she is my best girl though), pack my bags full of hats, hair, and hope and fly to La La Land where dreams can be made, but oft are shattered.

I felt nothing less than dread putting that wig on and beginning the 10 hour journey.  (If you want to understand what a wig on a bald head feels like, go rub your cheek on your jute rug.) Nevertheless, I buckle into my airline seat, turn on the Barbie movie and hummed happily along with the girl power anthems.

Halfway through the flight, the inevitable happened.  Altitude, dry air, or maybe just pure rebellion inspired by Barbie herself – the wig had to go, I was losing my mind with it on for so long.  Impulsively, I ripped it off mid-flight (the look from the guy sitting next to me was priceless!).  Frantically pulling a headscarf from my bag, there I sat, my heart beating out of my chest. With beautiful Barbies still playing on the screen in front of me, taunting me with their perfection, I sat in my little seat with my little headscarf on, self-conscious as hell.  I talked myself into “getting a grip”, suddenly taking on the realization of a breakthrough bald moment. In my own imperfectly Weird Barbie way, I took back some control and felt victorious, conquering one more fear of how people out in the world perceive me. 

Fade To Black

Having previously lived in LA, I reconnected with some of my fabulous entertainment industry friends at my favorite places.   One such friend, the bold and beautiful Jackie, met me for dinner in Beverly Hills.  She bypassed the usual "you look great!" that I get from everyone else, and led straight in with her signature bluntness:  "Holy shit, you need eyebrows!”  I about fell out of my chair. God I love a friend who keeps it real. Catching up on life, loss and love over a mountain of food, sharing things about my hair loss with the strong woman next to me that I’m not sure I had yet acknowledged to myself even, the weight of this journey hit me like a ton of bricks.

She asked me how long I had been dealing with this now.  “9 months,” I quickly stated back.  Wait. What.   NINE.  MONTHS.  ???   Emotion flows, supercharged, through my brain and time stops for that split second.  "It was only supposed to be 4-6 months," I stammered, a moment now vividly etched into my memory, reality cycling through every cell in my body.  And in a moment of strange quietness yet frantic internal machinations, I spoke the words out loud that had been hiding in the back corner of my psyche:  "It's over. This is it.  It's not coming back.”  Fade to black, Hollywood style.

One Last Take

Back in my hotel room, I consider the finality of what I was feeling.  It was as grim as the greige carpeting on my Sheraton floor.  I eagerly popped my sleep supplements and drifted into an 11-hour slumber, desperately hoping my cells would rediscover the art of hair growth while I dreamt of Malibu beach days with the Kens. 

Back to the real world the next day, life went on and the retreat kicked off.  The week was filled with work, brainstorming sessions, and team bonding.  We were a fun, dynamic bunch, conjuring future successes with fabulous products and it was nice to have a week where I didn’t have to look at my hairless self staring back at me in an online Zoom call.

Lunchtime one afternoon brought a different kind of magic.  My coworker Jonel, a gracious

*Jonel, beautiful inside and out^

beauty queen, took pity on my Alopecia woes.  She became my personal makeup fairy godmother, teaching me the art of fake lashes and drawn-on eyebrows.   Looking in the mirror for the first time in months with a full face (eyebrows and eyelashes, that is!), I literally fell to my knees with emotion (don't ask me why – I detest touching hotel floors!).  This simple act of kindness from a friend had a profound impact on my self-worth. Jonel, you're a superstar, and this blog is a small token of gratitude, of paying kindness forward.

And That's A Wrap...

But through the whole week, that memory of my dinnertime revelation echoed in my head: "It's over. It's not coming back."  I did my best to maintain a positive facade, but deep down, I felt like a stranger in my own skin.  My reflection showed someone different from the woman I'd known for 52 years.  "I've lost myself," I resigned.

So while Nashville was imbued with an attitude of "Resilience", full of hope and energy, ready to conquer the business world and my failing follicles, this trip held a categorically different tone.  It was about my own Great Resignation, accepting a new reality, and embracing the woman I'm becoming, bald head and all.

This isn't the end of my story, my friends,

but for now, the chapters close on this blog.

Much love to you,

Kristina 🩷

kristina@unexpectedlybald.com

Oh but wait - there's more.... www.unexpectedlybald.com/post/seriously