Updated Doings

So, here's how things stand at the moment;

Job
Ain't got one. I was on a four month contract at The Job Which Shall Not Be Named, and I was fully expecting to get a variation of 'don't let the door hit your arse on the way out!' on my last day. So imagine my complete and utter bafflement when I was asked by my boss to stay on. Huh. Maybe I wasn't the world's most hilariously underqualified and useless employee. Would have been nice if someone had mentioned that to me at some point while I was still employed there - that may have stopped my from hiding in the toilet in tears, convinced at my own uselessness, on what got to be an almost daily basis.

However, I truly despised that job, so rather than deigning to accept the offer I told my boss to cram it with walnuts, and I flounced out the door, pausing only to give him the finger and dispense a few choice insults amongst my former colleagues. I'm kidding of course. Though there was a small amount of flouncing. What I did do was go to the pub with D and the Hair Hamster, and get nicely sozzled. We had a very long, very boozy lunch, during which we cackled immoderately and were very bitchy. Then we went back to the office and spent the rest of the afternoon looking at this website and giggling like the drunken idiots we are;

(click the picture for more)

I think my ex-boss was genuinely surprised that I didn't want to stay, but I don't think I could have taken another day of it. It wasn't a bad job, and it wasn't especially difficult, but Heavens to Betsy it was tedious. I ended up so utterly stressed out by trying to fill the painful hours between 9 and 5 that I literally could not eat during the day. I always thought people who claimed to be too busy or stressed to eat were full of crap, because I pretty much live for food. But for the last four months I have been getting by on toast for breakfast and crisps and wine for dinner. I haven't started looking for another job yet, though I have started sorting out my resume today, and I plan to start the job hunt over the next few days.

Hair
Either it's slowing down, or I'm freaking out about it less, but either way I'm feeling better about the hair thing. I went to the doctor to get checked out, and he couldn't think of any good reason why I should be losing my hair, so he tested me for everything - 'I am throwing the book at you, young lady' were his exact words. I got my results, and everything is normal. Better than normal. I'm practically the bionic freaking woman, especially considering how appalling my diet has been lately, and that I haven't eaten meat in six months and have a more less vegan diet these days. Iron - awesome, cholesterol and blood pressure - exemplary, hormones, thyroid, vitamin levels - normal, normal, normal. Huzzah!

But doctor, why oh why is my hair falling out? His reply was '....ummm....stress? Yeah, probably just stress.' Because my hormone levels are normal he's pretty certain that it's not female pattern baldness - he thinks it's telogen effluvium, and he said that things could be back to normal within a year or so. Which seems like a very, very long time when handfuls of hair are falling out everyday, but it feels a lot better to be able to put a name to what's going on. The problem is that one of the triggers for telogen effluvium is stress. Guess what makes you stressed? Your hair falling out! Which causes more hair to fall out and so on ad absurdium. So I'm basically just trying to get myself back on track now. I'm having a sober month, I'm eating veggies til they come out my ears* and walking every day, and I'm starting to realise how tightly wound I have been lately. I was reading a book review the other day, and this quote from the book really struck me;

I was nothing but tension. . . . I brushed my teeth ferociously, as if I wanted to file them down. I yanked on my socks as if determined to thrust my toes right through them. . . . When I pushed a command button, I did so as if it was my personal strength that must send the elevator to the sixth floor, or raise the door of the garage. While I shaved I tensed my jaw, while I read I tensed my throat, while I ate (too fast) I tensed my forehead, while I talked I tensed my shoulders, while I listened I tensed my neck, while I drove I tensed everything.

That could be me he's describing - I had a tiny panic attack in the pub the other night, which hasn't happened in years, and my shoulders have been hovering around the level of my ears for weeks now. So the plan for the immediate future is to calm - the - fuck - down and get myself together (by the way, don't think I'm not aware of how appallingly middle class and privileged my problems are, because I know that 'I'm feeling a bit stressed' is pretty much the epitome of a first world problem, but I'm not going to apologise for that). To whit and thusly, I will be reading Game of Thrones, practising my Spanish grammar (there's something unexpectedly soothing about the mindlessness of conjugating**) and spending a lot of time pottering about in the kitchen.

OK, so that's the updated version of things at the moment. I have a story about a BBQ, and another one about seagulls and crazy ladies, both of which I will get to soon. Until then, you must wait with bated breath - can you stand the excitement!?

*which may point to a more serious medical problem than that of my hair falling out
**that's what she said

Who likes hairy hippies, anyway?

The hair situation continues unabated. I'm shedding hair like a dog in summer - I'm literally leaving little trails behind me everywhere I go. I have finally stopped standing in front of the mirror, sobbing and keening hysterically to the tune of Hair, but I'm still freaking out a bit. However. I have been to the doctor. I have been probed in all sorts of unpleasant ways (including one ultrasound that, let's just say, the gentlemen in the room will never have to undergo. It was pretty awful, and the worst part of it is that the ultrasound technician didn't even buy me dinner first HAHA! No, in all seriousness, I actually came out in tears), and it looks as if I am basically in fairly robust health. The doctor is pretty sure it isn't female pattern baldness, mainly because the hair is falling out from all over and not just from the crown, which is what would usually happen if I was just getting screwed by my genes.

So. The conclusion appears to be that I am suffering from stress. Nice one, Tash. I have in the past allowed my anxiety to induce migraines, crying jags and nausea, but this is the first time I have been so wound up that things have started to fall off. The upside is that it should mean that my hair will start to grow in as normal again in a few months, so I just have to suck it up and deal with it until then.

But because I am someone who has never had any trouble seeing the cloud around the silver lining, I have started to investigate the wigular opportunities available. I mean, chances are this will all sort itself out in a few months, but if it doesn't I want to be prepared*. Now then. There are these people, who look lovely - you'd get a cup of tea, and probably a homemade biscuit with those guys, and I think if worst comes to worst, they'll be my first port of call. There are also some people who look downright creepy.

There's a company that advertises 'REAL HUMAN HAIR', and which gives all their wig styles names, giving entries that read; 'JANE HUMAN', 'MEGAN HUMAN' and 'LIZ HUMAN', which makes me uncomfortable. I don't think I want to be reminded that I'm wearing someone else's hair. I also would never want to be classified as 'NATASHA HUMAN', as if I need it to be pointed out that I am.

The same website also offers the following wig care tips;

How to Care for your Wigs and Hairpieces.

 Taking care of your wig or hairpiece is extremely important. With the proper care and cleaning your wig will look great and will last longer. You may not be able to control the different environments your wig is exposed to each day but proper care will help overcome any exposure to unfavorable conditions

1) Fill a large bowl with enough cool to lukewarm water to fully immerse your wig. Don't use hot water or it will remove body and may damage fibre.

2) Dissolve approximately one tablespoon of wig cleaner or shampoo, along with one tablespoon of baking soda. Swish & swirl your wig around in solution.
If the front of wig or cap has makeup on it, make a paste of baking soda and shampoo and gently scrub with an old toothbrush until clean. Baking soda acts as a cleaning booster and will usually cut though the heaviest makeup or styling product residue in the hair or on the cap.

3) Rinse your wig in plenty of cool to cold water, do it 3 or 4 times to make sure the shampoo is completely rinsed out.

4) Rinse your large bowl out and refill it with fresh water. Dissolve one or two tablespoons of conditioner in water. Swish & swirl your wig around then work the mixture throughout your wig. Do not rinse. Lay your wig on a towel and pat it dry with another towel or paper towel to remove excess moisture.

5) Place onto a wig stand and let it dry.

6) When the piece is dry, comb it out gently layer by layer usually starting at the bottom and work your way up.

****Please do not comb Curly pieces****

Which is just such a poignant image that I started crying again.

Then there's this one, which is how I've always wanted my hair to look. I might buy it even if my hair doesn't fall out. Or I could just get a job as a children's entertainer and get a bunch of clown wigs. 

Eh. I'm really have a shitty time with all of this. Everyone has been so lovely and supportive, in their own ways. Jo has told me he'll always love me, even if I'm bald. But he refuses to grow his hair long to make me a wig, because apparently it would be creepy for us to have the same hair. Whatever. Why isn't it creepy when we wear matching outfits then, Jo? Well?

When I told my mum I thought my hair was falling out she burst into tears. She wailed 'you've got your Grandmother's hair!'**. Then she cried for a few minutes. Then she said, very intensely, 'don't you worry, we're going to get you the best wig money can buy.' Then she cried again. That did not make me feel better, but I know her heart was in the right place. 

Various other people have offered advice, reassurance, chutneys and jokes, all of which have been been gratefully accepted, though no one can top L, my work buddy, who has taken to referring to me as 'that thin haired freak'. But with love. So it's OK. I think. 

I'm trying my darndest not to think about it. Que sera sera, and all that. But writing about it really does make me feel better, so expect to see more follicular fear, more coiffure qualms, and more bouffant bathos.

*The odd thing is that I know a girl whose hair grows like bamboo, so she grows it long and then cuts it off and donates it to wigmakers. She's a lovely person, but I really hope I don't end up wearing her hair. It's a bit too Silence of the Lambs for me. 

** And it wasn't that great when she had it, boom boom.