I remember the first time I saw my bald reflection looking back at me and thinking what a great shaped head I had. Of course I looked completely unlike anything I had ever seen in the mirror previously but I didn’t look like the hideous pictures on the doctors hand outs and at that moment, I just assumed this is how I’d look for a while until it all grew back. I felt happier at that moment than I had done for the previous few weeks having had to watch my hair thin and fall out, I felt in control and looked better than I had imagined.

Of course I hadn’t realised yet that I was stood at the mirror purposely looking at my newly shaved head, I was prepared for what I was looking at and saw what I wanted to see. That mirror made things seem ok right then, for that short lived moment , I looked into it, felt proud and smiled at myself. But it’s the mirrors that creep up on you in unexpected places, the ones angled in a way you weren’t expecting, the ones that are there first thing in the morning or the ones where you can see other people around you reflected back at you too, it’s those mirrors that hit you like a slap in the face, those ones that almost make you want to run and hide, and it’s those mirrors for which smiling into requires that extra bit of effort.

For a while I angled my full length mirror so that I could see exactly what I was wearing but just about not see my head, it’s hard to focus on anything else in the mirror when there’s a strange bald head looking back at y at first that my clothes no longer looked how I wanted them too, it’s as though some outfits were made to be worn with hair. This phase didn’t last too long; I added earrings and stood the mirror back up within a couple of months.

I feel I have developed an uneasy relationship with mirrors next to mirrors, these often occur in elevators or H&M and generally make me want to scream. Looking face on in a mirror is one thing, but I hate seeing myself from a different angle. This isn’t a new, hair related issue, I’ve always found mirrors that show my side portrait a little offensive but the problem seems to have escalated. I don’t think anything looks more strange than the side view of a bald head, on several occasions I’ve found myself staring into these thinking “wow, I generally look like an alien” I think it’s a situation similar to when you write a word and suddenly it doesn’t look right and the longer you stare at it, the weirder the combination of letters seem. That’s my head. I take a glimpse, and then get trapped staring until what I see no longer makes any sense at all (or the lady in the fitting rooms interrupts by asking if you need any help and I realise I still haven’t tried on what it was I was meant to be trying in and by any means it will now always look weird because I can see my head from too many angles.) Shopping trips, as you can imagine, seem to take a while longer these days.

Mirrored walls are also up there on my hit list, those ones in shops or cafes that sometimes trick you into thinking the shop is bigger than it actually is when in fact that “other room” is just an enormous reflection of the one you are standing in. My problem with these stem from the fact that they’re too big. So big in fact, that not only do you see yourself in the mirror but also those around you and in doing so the mirror (unintentionally I’m sure) highlights to me, once again, that everyone else in the room around me has wonderful hair of all shapes and lengths and colours whereas I am the only person there with none at all, even the person in the far corner with a terrible haircut actually has better hair than me. Seeing myself amongst other people makes me realise how I must look to other people. I think these mirrors, although generally should be cracked with any object in any possible manner, have in fact allowed me to understand and therefore not bother too much about the stares I get from people when I’m wondering around. When I see myself within a group of people, I stare at myself too; I’ve learnt smiling back into the mirror helps tremendously, as does smiling back beautifully at anyone who happens to be stopped in their tracks to have a look at me.

Early on, I used to regularly give myself a shock when I walked past a mirror, or a car window or anything slightly reflective, Alopecia’s became a massive part of my life, of me, but I don’t think about it all the time and often forget that there’s no hair on my head. I would catch my reflection in the mirror and double take before realising that that was how I look now. I don’t think this ever upset me as such, I would just be shocked and sometimes (obviously looking quite weird if this was indeed a car window or one of them one way mirrors that in fact displays you to an office of hardworking but slightly bewildered employees.) just stand there looking at myself as though being diagnosed for the first time again and remembering what it meant. A year later and the shock factor has more or less diminished, sadly however, my relationship with those unexpected reflections is still in need of some serious repair.