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Permalink Reply by Tallgirl on June 8, 2011 at 3:08pm

The mirror of another's eyes, words, touch and smile can make or break us. If we base an opinion-of-self on the media, rude comments from strangers, or even horrified looks from parents, it may be years before we find a source to over-ride the internal doubts. Some look for a "thumbs-up" through social groups, career recognition, photos or even beauty pageants...others from family or one significant other. Question back at ya: Did your self-acceptance grow MORE after rj's approval? Did your own glow from the relationship make you "prettier, more confident, sexier" in the eyes of others?

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Permalink Reply by Cheryl, Co-founder on June 8, 2011 at 4:01pm

That is an interesting question. To be honest my revelation came before meeting rj. But possibly, it was that glow that started attracting other including rj. But for sure to receive confirmation and support from others surely help the process.

When I finally decided that I was no longer going to hide my alopecia, I prepared myself for the nay-sayers. I knew not everybody was going to like my decisions. Whether it was to wear hats, scarves or eventually going out without anything on my head. I still know that there are some that make comments, gawk, point or whisper. I was at the pool this afternoon and there were 3 teenagers that I knew were staring at me. They didn't say anything within my earshot, but I knew. The only difference is that now either it doesn't fizz me or if it does, I tend to bounce back much quicker. ;)

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Permalink Reply by Rose Marie' on June 8, 2011 at 5:35pm

I believe when people learn their self worth they begin to like who and what they are. Self - image and self-worth are not the same thing but they do get mixed up with a condition that effects how you present yourself to the world.

I do believe your perspective changed because of the work you did on who you were/are. The goals you set for yourself overode the mere physical image. Self-worth (or self-esteem) is something you give yourself, nobody else can give it or take it away.

Self-image on the other hand is something that is changeable and moves throughout life, comforming to our own set of priorities around looks can be a difficult task master. I laugh when I see old photo's of myself and what I felt was the way to look in my teens (gringe!!!). In our teens sometimes this get's a little mixed with who we are, which can be very challenging for those that feel they don't meet what ever requirements are currently in vogue.

To have the strength and love to stand within who we are is truly a beautiful thing. I think that is what you have done Cheryl and continue to do. RJ (I believe) see's this everyday, your lack of hair or the way you choice to present yourself means very little to who you are and how you are loved. I think his joy is you as your joy is him.

Rosy

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Permalink Reply by Tallgirl on June 8, 2011 at 7:23pm

This is my favorite story, and one I have my students illustrate, from their various points of view. Perhaps it provides a lesson for all women on AW as well.

~~JOHNNY LINGO'S 8-COW WIFE~~

(condensed from Woman's Day Patricia McGerr)

When I sailed to Kiniwata, an island in the Pacific, I took along a notebook. After I got back it was filled with descriptions of flora and fauna, native customs and costume. But the only note that still interests me is the one that says: "Johnny Lingo gave eight cows to Sarita’s father." And I don’t need to have it in writing. I’m reminded of it every time I see a woman belittling her husband or a wife withering under her husband’s scorn. I want to say to them, "You should know why Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for his wife."

Johnny Lingo wasn’t exactly his name. But that’s what Shenkin, the manager of the guest house on Kiniwata, called him. Shenkin was from Chicago and had a habit of Americanizing the names of the islanders. But Johnny was mentioned by many people in many connections. If I wanted to spend a few days on the neighboring island of Nurabandi, Johnny Lingo would put me up. If I wanted to fish he could show me where the biting was best. If it was pearls I sought, he would bring the best buys. The people of Kiniwata all spoke highly of Johnny Lingo. Yet when they spoke they smiled, and the smiles were slightly mocking.

"Get Johnny Lingo to help you find what you want and let him do the bargaining," advised Shenkin. "Johnny knows how to make a deal."
"Johnny Lingo! A boy seated nearby hooted the name and rocked with laughter.
"What goes on?" I demanded. "everybody tells me to get in touch with Johnny Lingo and then breaks up. Let me in on the joke."
"Oh, the people like to laugh," Shenkin said, shruggingly. "Johnny's the brightest, the strongest young man in the islands, And for his age, the richest."
"But if he’s all you say, what is there to laugh about?"
"Only one thing. Five months ago, at fall festival, Johnny came to Kiniwata and found himself a wife. He paid her father eight cows!

I knew enough about island customs to be impressed. Two or three cows would buy a fair-to-middling wife, four or five a highly satisfactory one. "Good Lord!" I said, "Eight cows! She must have beauty that takes your breath away." "She’s not ugly," he conceded, and smiled a little. "But the kindest could only call Sarita plain. Sam Karoo, her father, was afraid she’d be left on his hands."
"But then he got eight cows for her? Isn’t that extraordinary?"
"Never been paid before."
"Yet you call Johnny’s wife plain?"
"I said it would be kindness to call her plain. She was skinny. She walked with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. She was scared of her own shadow."
"Well," I said, "I guess there’s just no accounting for love."
"True enough," agreed the man. "And that’s why the villagers grin when they talk about Johnny. They get special satisfaction from the fact that the sharpest trader in the islands was bested by dull old Sam Karoo."
"But how?"
"No one knows and everyone wonders. All the cousins were urging Sam to ask for three cows and hold out for two until he was sure Johnny’d pay only one. Then Johnny came to Sam Karoo and said, ‘Father of Sarita, I offer eight cows for your daughter.’"
"Eight cows," I murmured. "I’d like to meet this Johnny Lingo."
"And I wanted fish. I wanted pearls. So the next afternoon I beached my boat at Nurabandi. And I noticed as I asked directions to Johnny’s house that his name brought no sly smile to the lips of his fellow Nurabandians. And when I met the slim, serious young man, when he welcomed me with grace to his home, I was glad that from his own people he had respect unmingled with mockery. We sat in his house and talked. Then he asked, "You come here from Kiniwata?"
"Yes."
"They speak of me on that island?"
"They say there’s nothing I might want they you can’t help me get."
He smiled gently. "My wife is from Kiniwata."
"Yes, I know."
"They speak of her?"
"A little."
"What do they say?"
"Why, just..." The question caught me off balance. "They told me you were married at festival time."
"Nothing more?" The curve of his eyebrows told me he knew there had to be more.
They also say the marriage settlement was eight cows." I paused.
"They wonder why."
"They ask that?" His eyes lightened with pleasure. "Everyone in Kiniwata knows about the eight cows?"
I nodded.
"And in Nurabandi everyone knows it too." His chest expanded with satisfaction. "Always and forever, when they speak of marriage settlements, it will be remembered that Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for Sarita."
So that’s the answer, I thought: vanity.

And then I saw her. I watched her enter the room to place flowers on the table. She stood still a moment to smile at the young man beside me. Then she went swiftly out again. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin the sparkle of her eyes all spelled a pride to which no one could deny her the right. I turned back to Johnny Lingo and found him looking at me. "You admire her?" he murmured. "She...she’s glorious. But she’s not Sarita from Kiniwata," I said.

"There’s only one Sarita. Perhaps she does not look the way they say she looked in Kiniwata." "She doesn’t. I heard she was homely. They all make fun of you because you let yourself be cheated by Sam Karoo."
"You think eight cows were too many?" A smile slid over his lips. "No. But how can she be so different?"
"Do you ever think," he asked, "what it must mean to a woman to know that her husband has settled on the lowest price for which she can be bought? And then later, when the women talk, they boast of what their husbands paid for them. One says four cows, another maybe six. How does she feel, the woman who was sold for one or two?" This could not happen to my Sarita."
"Then you did this just to make your wife happy?"
"I wanted Sarita to be happy, yes. But I wanted more than that. You say she is different This is true. Many things can change a woman. Things that happen inside, things that happen outside. But the thing that matters most is what she thinks about herself. In Kiniwata, Sarita believed she was worth nothing. Now she knows she is worth more than any other woman in the islands." "Then you wanted -"
"I wanted to marry Sarita. I loved her and no other woman."
"But —" I was close to understanding.
"But," he finished softly, "I wanted an eight-cow wife."

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Permalink Reply by Cheryl, Co-founder on June 8, 2011 at 7:51pm

Awesome Tallgirl. I think I will have to print this one out and save it.

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Permalink Reply by Rose Marie' on June 8, 2011 at 8:59pm

Perfect. :)

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Permalink Reply by Karen Smith on June 10, 2011 at 9:36am

Hi, I love Tall Girls story but wanted to add to your discussion that I think initially when alopecia hits there is a mourning period over the loss and a desperation over how am I going to live. My daughter says that you have to find a way to be happy no matter what happens to you. She uses wigs and tattoo'd eyebrows and will probably never show her baldness but she is truly comfortable with herself. It takes time to adjust but it hurts alot less now. In response to Tall Girls story as a Christian we know who paid the ultimate price for us and that is how we should view our value.

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Permalink Reply by Cheryl, Co-founder on June 13, 2011 at 9:27am

Hi Karen, I would agree with your daughter. Alopecia was not always easy for me. I struggled and hid for many years. When I say hid, I am not talking about wearing a wig. But am talking about letting the alopecia make my decision for me. Can I go swimming, or dating or even wear a dress. When these decision are "no" because of the alopecia, then I am hiding. But if I can find a way to do the things I love and not be afraid that others are going to find out, then I have reached a point of acceptance.

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Permalink Reply by Tallgirl on June 13, 2011 at 12:10pm

Karen: Go Google the title of that story and see who made it into a movie...and what happened after they did! You may be surprised!

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Permalink Reply by Christopher Blackett on June 17, 2011 at 3:50pm

I think alopecia is a terrible thing to cope with, but also quite beautiful. All the petty problems of life seem unimportant, and I know that I initially went through a phase of self-consciousness and depression, but once I accepted the condition, life seemed much more promising. What value do we place on hair aside from an aesthetic one that society constructs? Why do we place so much stock in hair? I found that there were two responses to alopecia--those that accepted it, and lived fulfilling lives in spite of it, and those that retreated into themselves because of it, and seemed to lose meaning.
It honestly all does come down to perspective. We can't let baldness get in the way of a meaningful and exciting life. After alopecia, I found that exercise more to combat the stress, eat better, read more, and am less prone to judging people based on physical appearance. These are all beautiful attributes and achievements. While I may have never wanted alopecia, I am undoubtedly a better person because of it. I only hope that people follow this same path, rather than down the self-destructive one of self loathing and depression

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Permalink Reply by Cheryl, Co-founder on June 17, 2011 at 6:32pm

Amen Christopher!

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Permalink Reply by Rose Marie' on July 4, 2011 at 10:48pm

Hi

I very much agree. Great post!!!

Rosy

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