Thoughts while standing in the deli line

I had some time to people-watch this morning as I waited my turn in the deli line at the market. I become obsessed with the hair of other women.

There was the 40-something woman with an unattractive mane of black and grey long, curly hair that went half-way down her back. There was an older woman with thinning, straight hair and a teenager with her hair held back in a headband. There was the woman with hair pulled back in a pony-tail, who idly scratched her scalp. Her action made my head itch and I ran my fingers to the offending if imaginary spot and gave a rub. I came away with countless strands caught between my fingers.

Rapid hair loss is a very strange sensation. I’ll never forget what it feels like. I’m really trying not to encourage the process, but it’s not easy. It’s second nature to react to the awareness that something is happening to your skin.

If I had to guess I’d say that I’ve lost a quarter to a third of my hair in the last 48 hours. If I run my hand through my hand through my hair I come away with many multiple of strands. It was all over the pillow case this morning, and it’s all over my shoulders now.

When I showered yesterday and washed my hair, it came out easily as I tried to rinse out the shampoo. Maybe washing speeds up the loss process, but I have to wash it--right ladies? Dirty hair feels miserable, although when the loss process is complete maybe I’ll yearn for those kinds of “bad hair” days.

My scalp feels irritated. The shafts of hair are tingly, and I swear I can feel each one. That tingling sensation is distracting, to the point that I have to make an extremely conscious effort NOT to touch my head.

I can feel individual hairs as they come loose—it’s as if a tension is broken and now relaxed, that hair is free to fall. They come out onto my face—I sweep them away and in doing so take more for the ride. They fall down the collar of my shirt and I feel them suddenly on my skin. Proud trees falling in the forest that has been my head of hair all these years.

It’s all just so strange.

Hat tomorrow, no question.