I was only four when I was in the bathroom, my mom brushing my hair as I stood on a stool to see myself in a mirror. "Life couldn't get any better", I thought, watching through the mirror as my mother ran the brush through my short brown hair. Little did I know my perception of life itself was about to change.
"Kristin.." my mom looked me in the eye through the mirror, "are you pulling your hair?" I answered no, not really sure how honest the answer was.
After that day my mom and I traveled to multiple dermatologists trying to figure out what this quarter-sized (and rapidly growing) bald spot on my head was. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Alopecia Areata.
Over the course of the next few months, I lost over half of my hair. I remember sitting on my bedroom floor, having my mom take a picture of the top of my head just as my hair started "growing back in" while we all thought "Wow, it's probably never going to be with bald again, let's take a picture to remember."
We were wrong. After a 3 month period of having my hair back, 60% fell out again within a week, just as I started the 1st grade.

I wasn't your normal 5 or 6 year old. I was the little girl you always saw playing football with the neighborhood boys, or having squirtgun fights in the backyard. Hair was the last of my concerns, and hardly affected my life. Everyone else, on the other hand, felt differently about it.
Kids were always curious, giggling, making rumors. Once the hair loss was too severe to cover with fancy, random hair combing, I started wearing hats. That didn't last long. Due to my elementary school's 'no hat policy', I was getting even more "you're not allowed to wear that in school" comments than I was of the "what's that funny bald spot on your head?" Then I tried out bandana, scarves, and whatnot. This seemed to interest kids the least, and I stuck with it.
It didn't change anyone's feelings, especially mine. I was always alone at recess, watching other kids on the swings while I hid under various play equipment. One girl in 2nd grade, Brenna, I took particular interest in. I would follow her around, hoping she wouldn't notice me. After a few weeks, she finally turned to me, blurting out "Go Away Kristin! I'm NOT your friend, you weirdo!" I think that was the moment I realized just who I was..The Freak. (I still know Brenna today and is actually probably the nicest girl I know.)

In 3rd grade I got a wig. My dad had been offering to get me one for awhile, and after a stressful day of rejection and ridicule, I decided to give it a shot.
I was -so- excited when I got it. It looked just like my real hair had 3 years ago. I went to school, head high. I remember standing at my locker, coming into school late because I had stopped to get it. My third grade teacher said to the class "Tell her she looks pretty." at the time I had thought it was one of the Spelling Sentence of the week, and thought nothing of it.
That was a great morning. I got comments from all these pretty, popular girls and I felt so good about myself. Then I went to lunch.
Katherine (Kat), the girl I sat quietly next to at lunch every day (and whose opinion meant the world to me) greeted me with a "when is that funky hairdo going to go away?!?" I was so devastated. I had been so excited for her to see, and now I felt like I was about to cry.
I took it off after lunch, sliding on a bandana behind it, and throwing it into my backpack. Crying, I ran home that day, begging my mom to never make me wear it again. "Try it for one more day" she told me. I didn't make it past lunch. I never wore it again.
We only recently donated that wig.

At some point I met a boy in the next town with alopecia. We met once, ended up in the newspaper for a support group, and never talked again.

The next 5 years followed the same path of rejection and depression. By now, I had only a patch on the back of my head, that grew in at randomly places, changing daily.
I was alone in life, and all of my struggles (which reached out far past hair loss). I was only 10 when I started cutting, and the next few years I spend my nights debating suicide.
I had nothing. And nobody. I surronded myself with academics, creating a barrier between me and reality.
In 7th grade I hit a low point, entering middle school with no hair, no friends, headgear (that's right.), and my dad's recent death. I didn't talk, to anyone.. ever. Which only increased the amount of rumors about my hair and headgear, since no one had any idea what was actually going on. My self-esteem lowered (if that was even possible at this point), I grew farther away from my family, and any sense of reality or logic. I hated everyone.
But, my grades were amazing.

I was never comfortable with myself. At school, at home, at the store. I was always on guard, for the *hilarious* people who would pull off whatever head cover was hiding my 'shame'.
If my siblings' or mom had someone over, (since I never did.) I would have to run around the house looking for a bandana, and if I couldn't find one, wait in my room for hours until they left.

Then came the summer before 8th grade.
My mom came to talk to me one day, and told me that NAAF would pay for us to attend the conference in Minneapolis, since we couldn't afford it. I was thrilled at the news, but I never expected what I ended up getting from that amazing place.
Before the conference my family went to the Mall of America.. every once in awhile I saw a bald head.. my excitement grew.
Walking through the doors of the Hyatt, I about peed. All these bald heads shining right back at mine..I couldn't believe it was real.
Quiet, awkward, self-conscious, and clinging to my older sister's protective arm... I made friends. Friends.
Normally social situations are not my strong suit, and every few minutes I would look around the room and think "oh great, all these people think I have cancer." and then smile and realize "no, no they don't. They all understand."
On the last day, all the teens (I had lied about my age by 3 months to get into the teen group.) sat in a circle and a few people said little things.. One girl told about how she was so happy, how everyone there supported her there, and how she went out without anything every day, still confident. And I hated her for that. How could she be so okay? Why was everyone so okay? but not me?

Being there alone changed my life. But the real change came in the following months.
At first, I had decided I wanted to try a wig again. I got a cheap one, off the shelf really, just to try it out. I've never worn it outside of taking some pictures in it for myspace. It was weird. I'd never seen myself that way. Nobody had.
A few months later, now slowly developing some friendships (which are now held strong.) I decided to do something scarier than anything I'd ever done before. Going to school completely bald.
I had been shaving the back patch of my head for a few months now.. I was feeling better.. but I was so nervous.
But, it went well. I eased into it.. every day stressing less and less about going bald.. and now it's been years since I've done anything else.

My life is completely new. I have my friends there for support (and amazing sites like this.) and have gone to 3 conferences now.
I have a sense of humor about it, which is always needed to some degree. And I've embraced it for all it's worth.
Not to say I don't have the same I'm any less self-conscious than any other 16 year old girl you pick off the street.. but my life is no longer consumed by worrying about it, thinking about it, hiding it. Why bother?


Well, leave it to me to write way more than I should. I just thought this would be a good chance to express my thanks to naaf for helping us to that first conference, and to remind everyone here how much these sorts of things can change lives.