I am a new mum and my hair appears to be falling out. Not in a serious Gail Porter kind of a way and not in an “I’m tearing it out because the baby keeps puking/poo-ing/wee-ing on me and I can’t keep up with the laundry” kind of a way, but definitely in a post pregnancy/birth fall out kind of a way.
Now I know that everyone will tell me this is perfectly normal and it’s nothing to worry about, and in truth I don’t appear to be in danger of actually going bald (although a widows peak could be a distinct possibility if I lose too much from the sides… oh god, I don’t want to end up looking like Eddie Munster come Christmas!), but I can’t help but find it alarming; particularly when it feels like handfuls of the stuff are coming out every time I wash my hair.
But actually, that’s not the most annoying part. The most annoying part is looking across the bathroom floor and seeing what looks like a hair-carpet made entirely out of strands of my barnet that have tumbled to the ground after a quick morning brush. And actually it’s not just the bathroom floor that’s become hair-coated. It’s like my hair has become the Hansel & Gretel crumb trail that traces where I’ve been through the house. Marking out where I may have momentarily rested my head, rushed through a room, or simply sign-posting “Bianca woz ere”. In fact god forbid that I were to (in a fit of uncharacteristic criminality) go forth and commit some sort of murder, burglary, or a spot of shop-lifting, forensics would have a field day and I’d be locked up by lunchtime. Just saying.
Anyway, with most of it happily falling out of its own accord, it’s rather unfortunate timing that Richmond Baby’s latest thing is grabbing. And grabbing with force. A vice like grip in fact. And her favourite thing to grab and grip you ask? – mummy’s hair. Oh yes, no matter whether it’s tied up or hangin’ loose, she gets at it and she tugs. Big time. In fact only a few days ago she grabbed and gripped so hard she actually pulled out a clump from the back of my neck. And f**k me did it hurt! So I definitely have a small bald patch back there now, though mercifully I can conceal it without too much of a comb-over.
I’m starting to wonder whether I might be able to explore some sort of alternative career path or business venture with all this hair I’m losing and gathering. I’m sure I read somewhere that Posh Spice used to get her extensions made out of real hair from Russian peasants or something. I’m off to weave a wig…