I moved to LA with big dreams and a lot of what I felt at the time was confidence. I was going to be a big screenwriter in Hollywood. I had everything it took to make it. I’m smart. Creative. A hard worker. And it didn’t hurt that I was attractive. I thought I knew that true beauty is found within; however, I really believed that the hotter you look on the outside, the easier it is to get what you want. Especially from men and Hollywood is filled with men. So I moved to LA feeling like the world would be eating out of the palm of my hand.

But things didn’t go quite as planned. Just two months after arriving in town, I looked in the mirror and discovered that my life had taken an unexpected twist for the worse.
That fateful morning in October 2004, I decided to wear this 1960s mod ensemble I had recently purchased from Miss Sixty on my virtually maxed out credit card. It was this sexy red mini skirt with this black and white diagonal striped cowl neck sweater. I had these super hot, white stiletto boots with black and red stitching.

I had landed a temp job at the talent and literary agency, William Morris (WMA), as a music business affairs assistant. Since music is all about being hip and cool, the entire department was able to dress casually unlike the dark suits that roamed the halls of the Film and TV departments across El Camino Boulevard. Hence, the sexy red mini skirt for work.

I had stayed up late the night before having seriously amazing sex with my boyfriend. One of the most vivid images from that night, now forever burned in my brain, was of us in front of the full-length mirror. Powerfully, he pulled my hair back giving me no choice but to watch in the mirror’s reflection. So you can imagine my surprise when, with nothing but fragmented thoughts of last night’s sexcapade, I pulled back my hair to discover a crescent shaped bald spot behind each of my ears.

I instantly took a double take. This is odd, I thought as I stared at the pale crescent moons, completely confused. I had hair there. I was sure of it. But the bald spots were so symmetrical that I started to question myself. Didn’t I have hair there? I swear I had hair there before. I realized I was being ludicrous for questioning myself on the matter. After all, I know my own body! Or so I thought at the time.

I decided for the obvious reason to wear my hair down instead of the originally planned high, sleek ponytail. As I stared into the bathroom mirror at my thick head of wavy hair easily covering the bald spots, I noted to myself that the ponytail would have indeed looked better with my outfit. I was right too. It totally would have but what I didn’t know at the time was that the day before would be the last time I was able to wear a ponytail for what has so far been the rest of my life.