You ever have those nightmares that your hair is coming out in chunks and you’re going bald? It’s much like the universal teeth falling out dreams that every human in existence seems to have. Just a step behind this dental horror, is going bald. 

Hair. It’s a bigger deal than you think, especially for women. 

Women’s societal beauty is unwaveringly linked to their hair. It always has been and it probably will be for a long time. Just look at how much money is spent on the haircare industry. You have the actual products, like shampoos, hairspray, gels, mousse, etc. You also have the paraphernalia, like curling irons, flat irons, all that hair care jazz. 

Besides home hair care, the amount of money spent at salons for cuts, perms, blowouts, and dye jobs is astounding. We’re talking hundreds of dollars for a single visit, depending on what you’re getting done. What’s my point? It’s that most women care about their hair. And why not? Society certainly tells them to. 

But what about those of us who don’t have any? 

My Hair History

I personally do have hair. Just…not that much. I’ve always had very fine, thin hair. Most of the women in my family are the same way. It’s been haunting me for my entire existence. My fraternal twin, as luck would have it, has the most glorious head of hair. So thick and full that it makes me want to flick her in the eyebrow. Trust me. That hurts. For the record, I think she stole that hair from me in the womb. She was a full two pounds heavier than me when we were born (she was quite large for a twin). The little demon hogged all the nutrients and, as a result, left me with a scraggly mess for hair while she looked straight out of a Pantene commercial. I am bitter. 

Growing up, I knew I didn’t have a lot of hair to work with. As I got older, I got the occasional perm but that is a rather spendy and temporary fix. I often kept it short, since it looked thicker that way, and it’s been my signature style for years. Through it all, I’ve taken my fair share of criticism about my lack of luscious locks. I’ve had such nasty, catty comments hurled my way that I’ve succumbed to many a crying session, wailing over something I can’t control.

It sucks. 

For the most part, I tried to ignore it, accept it, and move on with my life. I mean, what else is there to do? 

Hormones and my Hair

Then, in 2023, a friend took a picture of me. My hair had become so thin I could see the outline of my entire scalp through the wispy fluff of hair on top, much of the top of my head completely exposed. Looking in the mirror, I’d never noticed how thin it had become. I don’t purposefully inspect my hair because I hate it, it depresses me, and who needs that negativity in their life? I was living in semi-peaceful ignorance. 

Seeing that photo jarred me. How could no one have told me it had become this bad? I was devastated. 

Coincidentally, at the same time I had just been diagnosed with a prolactinoma, which is a pituitary gland tumor. It’s non-cancerous, thankfully, and not life threatening, but it messes with your hormones like crazy. Over a year later I’m still dealing with the little wretch, and I’m on long term medication that lets me live a pretty normal life other than the occasional brain fog that seems to rear up worst when I dare to order Subway without a game plan. I forget words like bread and cheese. You know, those important sandwich-building words. It’s the worst. Otherwise, I’m good to go.

My theory is that my already thin hair was decimated by the out of control hormones from my stupid tumor. I don’t know for sure, but it fits too perfectly to discount, especially because other people with prolactinomas often report hair loss too. Who knows. 

I took to wearing beanies. Well, first I went through a whole bandana phase, then a pirate looking peasant hat phase, then a pretty silk scarf that I was incapable of tying right-phase…Yeah. I settled on beanies. 

Beanies All the Way

Problem with wearing hats? You look sick. People assume you have cancer, they just do. And while I DO have a brain tumor, it’s a far cry from cancer. It’s so frustrating, the assumptions that people make if you wear a hat. Yes, I know I could wear a wig. You’re probably screaming that at your computer right now. I’ve heard it a million times. I just don’t want to. Wigs are uncomfortable, itchy, and if you want them to not LOOK like wigs, they cost hundreds of dollars. Nope. Beanies all the way. 

What does all this have to do with women’s hair in the workplace? 

It’s hard to be a bald woman. I know, I know, I’m not technically bald, but I’m well on my way. I even shaved my head a few months ago so that I would be free of my stringy, Gollum-like tresses, going for the Ripley in Alien 3 look instead. I highly recommend it. 

That said, it’s hard to feel professional wearing a beanie. It’s hard to know that someday I’m going to have a job interview and look like I’m sick. I feel like I need to wear a t-shirt all the time that says, “I’m not sick, I’m just balding!” I feel so self conscious, especially when people who haven’t seen me in a few years wonder why I wear a hat everywhere. Even on this site, the picture of me is four years old, back when I had some semblance of hair. I really need to update my pics but that’s just a chore, you know? Bleck. 

Being Bald at Work

Here’s what you should know when it comes to bald/balding women in the workplace: 

• Some of us will wear wigs and you’ll never even know it. That’s absolutely fine. It’s whatever makes them feel comfortable. There’s something to be said about going incognito
• Some of us prefer beanies, head scarves, soft wraps, etc. Everyone is different and it takes trial and error to find a look and feel that fits best
• Some of us will go full on bald, scalp to the wind. That’s absolutely awesome. Women are beautiful with or without hair. End of story
• Don’t assume that we have cancer just because we don’t have hair. It’s frustrating that bald women are automatically assumed to be sick
• Some of us are sick. Women in the U.S. have a 39% chance of developing cancer. That’s terrifying and it will probably affect someone you know, if not several someones
• Some of us have alopecia 
• Some of us have hormone related issues (like me)
• Some of us are just genetically prone to thin or no hair
• There are tons of reasons why someone could be bald. Don’t make assumptions. Quite frankly, unless the person feels comfortable talking about it, it’s really none of your business why she doesn’t have hair
• Being bald doesn’t make us any less professional. The association with women’s appearance and their aptitude is stuck in the stone age, good grief! 
• Bald women have it hard enough in this hair-obsessed world. Don’t make it harder for them. The world sucks enough as it is

Bald is Beautiful

This is a passionate subject for me, if you couldn’t tell. I’ve been ridiculed over my hair my entire life. It’s hard. Not fitting in sucks the energy out of you. It’s exhausting. If you take nothing else away from all this, please don’t judge a woman by her hair or lack of it. We have intelligence, skills, savvy, and so much more to offer than what may or may not be on our heads. Bald women are beautiful. Bald women are strong. Bald women are awesome and they have to put up with so much misconception and judgment. Please don’t add to that.

Lastly, if you ever hire me to write copy for you and we end up in a zoom meeting or some such thing, you have my utmost permission to compliment my hat. I mean, why wouldn’t you? My taste in headwear is flawless.