Illustration by Zara Picken
Wrinkles are tolerable; they show me which expressions have crossed my face most often in the past 50 years. Even graying hair doesn’t bother me; when you start with dishwater, the baseline’s pretty low. But when my hair starts falling out in clumps, real panic sets in.
My husband decides it will help to call me Kojak.
“Who loves ya, baby?” he says. I try to laugh. Tears well. Instead of tenderly consoling me, he loses patience. “For God’s sake, babe, you’ve been through cancer and nerve pain, and you’ve got dead people’s bones fused into your neck! Losing your hair is neither painful nor life-threatening. Get over it.”
I pretend to be bucked up. I go upstairs, shut the door, and email my (female) gynecologist. She kindly suggests a blood test, to rule out anemia or a thyroid problem. When I catch myself hoping the test’s positive, I begin to realize my husband might have a point. But as it turns out, I’m in glowing health. With a shiny scalp peering through a widening part.
The Internet suggests Jell-O, omega-3 fatty acids, biotin, a razor haircut, and approximately 378 magical hair products. It says to use gel not mousse, mousse not gel, volumizing gel but never volumizing shampoo. It also tactfully inquires about the possibility of trichotillomania—compulsive hair-pulling during emotional stress. I don’t do that. But I had a friend who had a bird that did.
My mother watches an episode of The Dr. Oz Show about hair loss and calls me at work, where I answer in elliptical monosyllables (I share an office). “We lose 150 hairs a day,” she emails, getting the hint. “More is hormone change but worrisome. Testosterone poisons the hair cell, causing loss.”
I should’ve known men were at the root of this.
“Use Minoxidil, $30, 2 percent solution needs no prescription,” she writes. Wait a minute—I saw “Minoxidil” online. It’s Rogaine. The stuff my boss used years ago, and we nicknamed him Chia Pet because all that grew was fuzz, like the moss on those terra-cotta animal planters.
I call Dr. Madhavi Kandula, a dermatologist in private practice. She assures me the problem is “really, really common. Androgenic alopecia. Thinning straight down the middle, starting at the front, and it can go all the way back. Hormonal changes trigger it. Going into menopause, or if a woman has a strong family history, it can start even in her twenties. Once it starts, it’s of uppermost importance to have it completely worked up. It can come from a thyroid imbalance, anemia, medication, stressful events, post-pregnancy changes.”
I’m sufficiently worked up. Even if it’s just, well, age and fate, “early treatment does help,” Kandula says—whether it’s Rogaine or a prescription medicine your doctor recommends. “The big thing is not only regrowing but preventing further loss. It’s not about shampoos; it’s not about anything you do externally. Except that African-American women definitely get heat-induced hair loss on the crown, because they use straightening hot combs so close to the scalp.”
I’m not ready for Rogaine. I call Denise Edgar, owner of D-Zine Hair & Art Studio, hoping for a more cosmetic solution. “We’re all losing hair,” she says bluntly. “The options are fueled by the pressure behind them: if you are single and still looking for a mate; if you’re in a high-profile job; if you never cared that much to begin with.” I’m definitely No. 3. But I care more now.
“The first thing is to try not to get upset,” Edgar says. “Don’t panic.” Me, panic? “There are a lot of new products, like Nioxin shampoo and scalp treatment, and they help. There are implants. There’s laser therapy. Mainly, though, you need to hydrate your scalp. Tap water. Drink plenty of tap water. Take your vitamins, and get your sleep. Your scalp is actually a muscle: You have to clean it, feed it, massage it, and keep it healthy.”
Massage at least sounds indulgent, rather than compensatory. “Sebaceous oils fill up in the glands,” she explains, “so physically moving the skin helps—without the fingernails, because you don’t want to abrade it. You need to relieve the sebaceous glands, slough off dead skin, and stimulate the blood supply. The first thing women do when their hair starts thinning is, they stop manipulating the scalp. You want to brush your hair, move the scalp. Normal loss is 50 to 80 hairs a day.” Damn. I’d read 150 was normal. And I was about to start counting.
Counting, of course, is about volume. And with that, we’re away from medicine and into styling tricks. “You can give yourself more volume with a powdered lightener,” says Edgar. “It’s a bleach—and an optical illusion. It swells the hair and makes it feel thicker by damaging it.” Body waves also add volume, but cause damage. “Damage is volume,” she sums up with a shrug.
Extensions? “Be careful. People put extensions in when the hair is too fine. That will actually pull the hair from the follicle. But it’s a great look for the weekend.” W…w…wig? “They are doing much better with wigs,” she says reassuringly. Meanwhile, what’s the best way to style hair without damaging it? “Set it with sponge rollers.”
Oh my God. Not only have I reached a certain age, but I’m resurrecting my mom’s old pink curlers? I call another salon owner: Donnal Chung, master of the scissors, never cowed by tact. “Good news and bad news for the thinning-hair woman,” he announces, his Chinese accent still thick from growing up in Tianjin. “Good news is”—I wait eagerly—“short hair for women is beautiful. If you cut the hair shorter, it will make it much thicker.”
Fine. His other piece of advice? “Wear hat.” He softens the injunction by rhapsodizing about the ’30s and ’40s, when women wore elegant hats. “Of course, it takes a lot of courage,” he concedes. Then he brightens. “Stem cell will be legal soon. That can help hair all come back again. But if that high technology comes, it won’t be cheap.”
More immediately, Donnal agrees that coloring the hair helps, not only because it roughs up the hair and makes it thicker, but also because you can get closer to the color of the skin underneath. Camo. He also suggests Schwarzkopf’s OSiS+ Dust It mattifying powder. “It looks like baby powder,” he says. “A little on hair gives a lot of texture.” What about old-fashioned hair spray? “Not good. Hair should move. And don’t touch gel, mousse, oils, or creams. It’s all liquid, and it makes your hair even thinner.”
His best solution? “Cut hair. Wear hat.”
