It's Trich-y

First of all, I'd like to take a moment for you all (all 4 of you) to appreciate that brilliant title I came up with. You may wonder why I misspelled 'tricky.' If you do, click here before reading on. If you're already accustomed to the fact that I'm mildly crazy, just quietly reflect on the sheer genius of the title for a second because then you can turn your volume up and watch this:




Lyrics | Run D.M.C. - It’s Tricky lyrics

Amazing, right?

Anyway, now that you know I have an uncanny ability to pair a horrifying song with my own eccentricities, we can (reluctantly) move on.

I figure you all are dying to know what's happening with my hair pulling! Yay! Let's catch up:

The last time I wrote about this nearly irresistible habit I have was almost two years ago! I had gone several days pull-free and I got a little cocky. One innocent hair led to tons more, and bam! I leaped directly back onto the hair wagon (which feels more like a bullet train). I tried again at the beginning of last year and was successful for about 2 months before I couldn't stand it anymore and binged frequently with periods of moderation. And look where I am now! Nearly bald at 27. I'm not even exaggerating, it's totally happening. I'd post pictures, but I'm not sure any of you would follow this blog anymore. Plus I'm good at bobby pins so I am only visibly bald occasionally. Plus, I have an INCREDIBLE ability to pull off self-deprecating humor (ha!), and this is the kind of thing that needs it. How did I get so hilarious (in writing)? I have no idea. Except the theory I have which is illustrated in the tedious footnote at the end of this blog.*

There's good news and bad news about my hair...

Good Things:
1. I am learning to become aware of my behavior and thought patterns by gathering useful information. This means I neurotically collect the hair I pull out, store it in a dated envelope, and then count it every week, and I keep a situation and thought record as often as I can.

2. I'm about to start learning ways to intervene that might actually WORK if I can become aware enough to know when to intervene.

3. I'm about to solve this annoying problem and I will be very proud of myself.

4. It's so much better now than it was when I was younger and afraid to tell anyone. I'm not sure why it's better that it's not a secret, but it is. So thanks! :)

5. There's always my old stand-by as a substitute habit: Swedish Fish.**

Bad Things:
1. I have 3 almost-visible balding patches, and 1 visible bald patch.

2. I think the only thing more irritating to count would be grains of sand. Especially the hairs I zipped ribbon-style into little balls or tiny ringlets, because they form giant bouncy looking tangles when they're all smashed with their curled friends in an envelope. Plus, my hair is pretty light-colored even though the ones I rip out are redder and thus darker. This means I have to count them on a giant white shipping envelope with my face like an inch from the hair so I can see, and sometimes I have to BREATHE and they all fly away. Gah!! And sometimes as I'm putting a little clump of 5 hairs onto the already-counted pile, the tiny clump sticks to my hand, attaches to the giant already-counted pile, and then my hand inevitably spazzes and I fling hair everywhere. If my hair was an expensive drug I'd be in debt. Not to mention, it takes forever to count. Last week I recorded 2,335.

3. I'm about to lose my most effective (in the short-term) and most pervasive soothing mechanism. It's weird.

4. Did I mention I am going bald at 27?

I guess the take-away message is...if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. And again. And if it takes you 16 years to start succeeding, you might get frighteningly close to being bald.

Just in case you didn't know, the only woman who looks good bald is G.I. Jane, and that's just because she's Demi Moore. OK, I guess Natalie Portman is pretty too. Without a significant handicap (Brad, you know what I'm talking about), I'd struggle to pull off that level of hotness off. However, I'm pretty sure I could learn to do a one-armed push-up. Maybe even a Mr. Clean commercial.



* I think my self-deprecating skill stems from both my great sense of humor and how I figured out what to do when I was made fun of in school when I was young. Junior high, as Matt's blog describes, is never fun. But I figured if I just didn't cry in front of anyone, they'd leave me alone because it wouldn't be as interesting to pick on me if I just thought everything they said was funny and laughed every time. Instead of crying in the halls, I'd just hold it together until I could escape to the bathroom and hide in a stall until I was normal again. Then I realized some things WERE funny, and if I just went along with it and made my own jokes like I didn't care, that they would get bored of it. And I never, ever, picked on anyone else. Why? Why wouldn't I stand up for myself by cutting others down? Because it feels awful when you're the cuttee. I didn't want someone else to feel like that. And I figured if they had to make someone else feel bad so they would feel good, they must have been a lot more insecure than me. And in a small way, I feel like they learned something. And so did I. Now the goal is to reverse it. It's just a little trich-y.

**At least I'll still have my sugar: