There it is. I am going bald. My hair is falling out faster than I can grow it back in. Every time I wash my hair my fingers become entwined in about fifty fallen strands. By the time I am done showering my hands look like someone’s old hairbrush, covered in ratty, matted fur. You know how most people have to grab the nasty wad of hairs out of the drain every week or so? I can prevent my shower from draining in just one day. Seriously, I am losing that much hair. I can actually see my hairline receding.

This isn’t the first time I have gone through this. This sudden loss of hair is actually a byproduct of pregnancy. May I reiterate once again how much I loathe being pregnant? I get every weird side effect; no part of my body is spared. The scientific way to describe this is that during pregnancy the hormones created send a message to the hair follicles to not release the hairs that ought to be let go. These hairs are all accumulated until about four months after giving birth, at which point, the hormones even themselves out and the hairs begin a mass exodus from my head. It’s not pretty. There’s hair everywhere.

After I had Jonas I developed literal bald spots. They were small, but they were there. I have the photos to prove it, and no, I will not be sharing them. This time around I was taking the optimistic approach to things, hoping that just maybe, since I was having a girl, things would be different. I don’t know why I thought this. Every other aspect of my pregnancy had been the same, (except for the fact that I was carrying Maggie so high there were days that I thought they would have to pull her out of my throat) so why should this be any different?

Now, if you are a guy and you are balding, that’s just kind of a part of life. Lots of guys do this. It’s not so weird. But when you are a woman? A vain woman? Yeah, not good for the post pregnancy morale. First no abs, now no hair. But a much larger, mushier tush and thighs. Not a very good advertisement for having a baby. I have gone forth and multiplied, spread my seed as it were, to sustain life on our puny little planet, and this is the thanks I get? Chubby and balding? It’s just not right.

The really funny part is that this really isn’t the worst of it. The worst part will happen in about four months when all the little hairs grow back. At that point I will have three inch long spikes of baby hairs poking out all over my head, but predominately at my hairline. This means that every time I wear my hair up (which is frequent because I am too lazy to fix it most days) I could poke someone’s eye out. To paint a simple picture, replace my head with Sputnik. “Spherical, but quite pointy in parts.”

Last time I hit that point I slathered on gobs of every wax, pomade, gel, mousse, and hair spray known to man and tried unsuccessfully to mold the little feelers back into place. The flagella refused to be reigned in. After about two months of looking ridiculous, my new hair was about four inches long and still defiantly refusing to bend to the will of gravity. I finally broke down and chopped it all off. I liked it for about three days.

At that point the novelty wore off, and I realized that it was appallingly high maintenance. I spent the next year trying to grow it back out so it didn’t drive me crazy. I am not a short hair person. I know that now.

I am considering taking a punk approach this time and coaxing all of my hair into large spikes. I could even dye the spikes different colors just for kicks. I will, of course, maintain my usual boring, suburban housewife garb. I am sure I will be quite the sight. So next time you are strolling along in the mall and your friend exclaims, “Look at that woman in the stylish twin set and khakis with the two foot purple spikes growing out of her scalp!” That’ll be me.