Now you see me

These days when I go out into the wild (defined as the grocery store or out to breakfast—I'm not the type to hang out in forests), I get some strange reactions. Little kids get really excited when they see me and sometimes random people follow me out into the parking lot to tell me they like my hair. At first, this was weird and embarrassing, but now I just take it in stride. The other day at Costco, the guy collecting the carts told me that he wanted his wife to dye her hair so it looked like mine. I smiled and nodded to validate him and then told him to have a good day as I got in my car.

Now for the facts: the hair in question is purple. It's also a wig.

My hair started falling out when I was 16, and then it kept right on falling out. I vacillated for many years between freaking out on bad days and ignoring it on good days. I did all the things you're supposed to do: go to the doctor, get referred to dermatologists, get blood tests, be told there's nothing wrong with you, get patted on the head, and be sent away to fight your demons of inadequacy and humiliation on your own. It's not common for women to experience hair loss, but when they do, there's not a lot of help out there for us. There are a few things you can try, but mostly it's inadequacy and humiliation served to you because your body doesn't do something that other bodies have no trouble doing. Also: your problem has to be pretty stark before other people begin to notice it. (Astrologically, I attribute this issue in MY life to my Saturn-Pluto conjunction, as people with Saturn-Pluto issues tend to have problems that others know nothing about--unless we decide to tell you what they are, that is. Hair loss is not a Saturn-Pluto thing necessarily, but if it's shameful for you to admit to, then it is.)

People with a strong Neptune in their chart (which I have) tend to be harder to diagnose than normal people. For years, when I had a new doctor or a new medical professional in my midst, I'd mention this as an "oh by the way" and they'd shrug at me. Or tell me I was fine and there was nothing wrong with me. So if you're a sun-Neptune or a moon-Neptune or a Neptune rising, be prepared to get multiple different opinions, medically-speaking, and to not give up on yourself if you want your problems addressed. The list I just gave you of Neptune issues also has an increased sensitivity to medications (as well as alcohol) so...be warned.

What wound up happening with me was a product of Saturn conjuncting my sun last year, which happens to all of us once every 29 years. A different astrologer I respect basically calls Saturn on your sun a process of having to reimagine yourself because some of your old tricks no longer work, and my hair situation was *not* working for me at all. So I buzzed it all off. Multiple times. And then lived as a person with incredibly low self-esteem for almost a year, because while some of my friends complimented the look, it is not one I enjoy having, and it does not make me feel good about myself. What made me feel *worse* was the constant shedding long hair, though, so I preferred having no hair and no panic attacks about my hair falling out (and the attendant self-hatred) to having hair that caused me to have meltdowns. I did a lot of things to try to make myself feel better about not having any hair, but nothing moved the needle on my self-esteem until I discovered the joy of Party City wigs. For a day (or as long as I could tolerate wearing them, because they are both uncomfortable and itchy as hell) I did not feel like a mutant who can't grow hair. I got compliments. I felt more like a normal version of myself. People smiled at me again. One time, an elderly gentleman wanted his picture taken with me and he told me I was beautiful. The wig that day was blue.

Saturn conjuncting your sun is usually about a 9 month period, and during this time I caught up on all my doctor's appointments I missed during COVID, finally getting a reference to a hair specialist dermatologist, because *regular* dermatologists "don't feel comfortable diagnosing" hair issues (don't get me started. I do love my skin dermatologist, though). The hair specialist's office is located in one of the circles of hell, and the waiting room was straight out of Beetlejuice, and I am sure the hair specialist is very good at what she does, but she took a look at my very-easy-to-see scalp and pronounced that I had genetically shitty hair (my term). After all that: bad genes. But at least I finally had an answer, and that is a manifestation of a Saturn transit: you may not like the answer, but it's a final answer. She also recommended I get some supplements to "help" my situation that wound up wrecking havoc on the rest of my body (see sensitivities above) that after 6 weeks I gave up on and threw out in disgust.

This past winter, after Saturn finally moved on to torture someone else for a change, I had the going-to-sleep thought "well, what if I started wearing fun-colored wigs at work and when I'm out in public? I think I could pull it off and I'd probably like myself more." For the first time in a long time, I was excited about something having to do with my appearance. This was a result of a friendly Uranus transit (to my Venus-Mars conjunction), which involved a crash course in how wigs work, during which I flailed around, spent a lot of money, learned by trail and error, and am still not great at all of it, but at least understand what's what. The reason I elected for fun-colored wigs was I wanted people to realize that I was wearing a wig, not pretending I all of a sudden had good hair out of nowhere. Like, if *you* know it's a wig and *I* know it's a wig, you don't have to wonder what's happening on my head and we can all calm down, have a regular conversation, and stop staring at my hairline.

Only...people think it's real. My coworkers know it's not because of the progression of events (and the fact that I'm open about it now, when it used to be what I considered a horrible thing I couldn't talk about), but if I'm out in public, I'm 1. very visible (obviously) and 2. a magnet for compliments from people who think that it's real, and if you can think of a better life 180, I'd like to hear it. I had a hair situation that could not be complimented (when I did get compliments, I found it hard to listen, because *I* hated my hair) and all of a sudden I'm the belle of the ball of the Whole Foods parking lot.

But this is true only half the time: if I'm at the gym or it's a weekend and I don't feel like going through the trouble, I do not have hair, which renders me socially invisible. (It is my belief that you cannot work out in a wig: you will hate your life. You also obviously can't swim in one, and I am a swimmer, and I will not be fussing with taking a wig off and storing it properly when it's pool time. Hell no.) On week days during work hours, I look totally different. I now refer to it as "hair jail" because wigs are vaguely uncomfortable no matter what and have to be in your face a little unless you're wearing a ridiculously short wig, which would look silly on me. There's also certain clothes you shouldn't wear because they will rub against the wig and wear it out prematurely. (I could give wig lessons or point you toward resources, no problem, because I learned it all the hard and expensive way.)

It took a while for me to get comfortable being visible again, because I'd walk in somewhere and a LOT of people would look at me, and I'd have to remember "oh right, I have an abnormal hair situation. Do they know it's a wig? Are they judging me?" They don't and they're not. It's bizarre.  A couple of weeks ago, it was early in the morning and I was again at Whole Foods, bewigged, at the self-checkout, and a family of 4 stopped their cart in front of me so that they could all tell me that the kids (who were fit-in-the-cart-sized) thought my hair was cool. I forgot I was in cool mode and had to re-center myself and be gracious about it, because little kids think you're a Disney princess when you have fun-colored hair. It's weird because I'm treated so differently based on my appearance, and if you'd like to know more about that, go out and get yourself a Party City wig and see how people react to you. If you can stand the itching and the fact that it feels like you're wearing a bra strap around your head, that is.