One of the joys of having Alopecia Areata and opting for the bald path is the need to shave every few days. I decided I will not learn to shave my own head, and have my husband do it to me instead. This way he’d have some participation in the delights of my Alopecia, because I’m nice like that. I have also decided to refer to him as “Superman” on this blog, because he is my superman (and this is my lame attempt at flattering him). So, every couple of days I would be niggling Superman into shaving me; and he would oblige. It’s not like he has any other choice. Happy days.

And the ritual begins…

My husband would set the razor up in the bathroom, bring a seat for me, and then summon me when all is set for the much awaited deed. I would then quietly follow, sit on my throne whilst he wraps me with the hair cutting cape. He would stand behind me, razor in hand. I would then bow my head in dreadful anticipation. It all sounds mundane really, but it has become a very significant act in my bald life. The moment I hear the buzzing sound of the razor, I cringe.

These days, my friends, are probably the low points of my weeks.

Me: “Do you see any new hair growing?”

Superman: “Ummm…”

Me: “I think I felt new hair growing earlier today, can you see it?”

Superman: “Uh huh”

Me: “It’s improving, right? I’m getting better.”

Buzzing sound from the razor.

Me: “Are there new bald patches?”

More buzzing from the razor.

Me: “There are new bald patches… Tell me.”

Superman: “Yes. There are.”

Deafening silence.

Superman: “But it’s not as obvious as before, it’s getting better.”

And the buzzing sound continues…

Each time it’s the same story. No visible hair growth anywhere, only more bald patches.

Just another manic bald day.

More about the joys of Alopecia from my blog at http://icedbit.wordpress.com/ :)