Please excuse our dust, and any slowness or loading issues in the coming days. We’re* moving the site to LiquidWeb for hosting. Much more expensive but the slowness and blackouts of last week shan’t happen ever again, guys. Can I get an “A. MEN!“?
*when I say “we’re” I mean Blue Eyes, and what’s that I always say? That’s right, all together now, “Thank god I’m sleeping with tech support” .
I’m not even rightly sure how to blog about this. However, I blog about everything else, so why stop now, eh?
It seems that half of my hair has blown our humble popsicle stand. As any girl (and boy – Rogaine and Propecia boys put ya hands up!) can resound, that kind of deletion (oh hey Vanity, how’s it hangin’!) is enough to frighten even those of us who are minimalists in the mirror-checking department.
The photos below were taken in 2009-2010. I had been off birth control for about 9 years. I hated it so much I made my ex use condoms. I’m pretty sure he’ll never forgive me for that. I also acknowledge that in my column of Ways You Screwed This Relationship Up. Sorry about that, ex-boyfriend. You know who you are and we’re friends now so clearly you have sort of forgiven me my erroneous and inconsiderate ways. I was a bad, bad, girlfriend. Anyway, you can see in these photos how full and healthy my hair was. Don’t judge me. These were my waitressing days. I waitressed downtown, in a late night, Jager Bomb atmosphere. Hey, if you’re going to do it, may as well walk off a Friday night shift at 3am with $400 in your pocket.
Right around that time, I made the decision (out of pure necessity and a lesson on erasing your sex life, I hate taking any pill daily) to go on birth control pills. About 6 months in, I noticed my once-full and luxurious hair was looking and feeling rather sparse. I mean, my messy top knot, ratty-hair-don’t-care bun, and standard ponytail had lost half their mass. I sadly accepted that this was likely due to the birth control pills. There was kinda no way around taking them though so I went to my stylist and got me some highlights. I love the way they look but the chemicals always burn, break, strip, and generally make brittle my thick and shiny hair, so I had in years past vowed to abstain from the foil.
But… if it was gonna be like this, well, may as well relapse in the name of sexiness, yes? So I firmly fated my locks to a lifeless sentence for at least the next few years, keeping up with my highlights and even chopping it to my shoulders when I got my first big girl job. Pardon the selfie.
Then, much story (that you’re all learning about if you’re following along) transpired, I met Mr. PB, and lo, he told me he got fixed (his words, not mine, I’d not refer to him as a canine in a state of testicular absence but I always thought his description giggle-inducing).
“So wait, what you’re telling me is, you’ve surgically sterilized yourself? I can go off these awful birth control pills?! Hell to the yes!”
Keep in mind, this was the stage at which I wasn’t really thinking about having children with this man – that came later. Right now I was much more concerned with not getting knocked up in the front seat of his black Porsche.
So off the pills I went. I swallowed my last Microgestin Fe 1/20 on March 28, 2012. I also reenlisted in the No Foil cause. I was determined to reclaim my hair. I waited out that dreadful half-bleached, half-not stage. Let’s just call it ombre hair. But more pronounced. Robust ombre hair. Yeah. 6 months passed. A year. A year and a half. I started to see the triumphant return of my mane. The ends were still stringy and light, and I slowly snipped them off.
Then, about a month ago, I noticed something terrible. All that I’d felt coming back was gone. And it took some defectors with it! I mean, no joke. My ponytail was about 1/3 what is used to be. Then, I realized that my hairline was full of new growth. A thick fringe of it. I’m talking unintentional bangs, people. Now, I’m not trying to be all ungrateful. At least it seems to be growing back, but WHAT THE HAM SANDWICH, BATMAN?
This is what’s left of my ponytail. Where did the rest of it go? I feel I may have been robbed.
I rushed post-haste to use my shiny new insurance card for the first time. Perhaps a full workup will reveal a woeful vitamin deficiency. Or something much scarier. Here’s hoping it’s more the former, less the latter.
Did I mention I am a giant, articulate toddler where needles are concerned? Yeah. I usually demand someone hold my hand. Anyone. Doesn’t matter. I’ll go recruit from the waiting room if I have to. Mr. PB is my hand holder of choice but he had to go save someone else’s day at work. The nerve, yeah?
I didn’t cry. I consider that a win. Now, I wait for the results.