Transparency

One thing I’ve learned is that hair loss can be heartbreaking — if you allow it to define you.

I started losing my hair in my forties, long before I understood why it was happening. At the time, I had no answers. Little did I know it was connected to my thyroid. It wasn’t until I was 57 years old that I was finally diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. By then, I had already lost over 60 pounds, and I suppose the dramatic weight loss made it easier for doctors to recognize something deeper was going on. Along with that diagnosis came the discovery of several nodules on both sides of my thyroid, thankfully noncancerous.

But long before the diagnosis, there was the mirror.

And if I’m honest, that was one of the hardest parts.

I had thick hair almost my entire life. Hair that felt tied to my identity, my femininity, and how I saw myself. So when it began thinning and falling out, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me anymore. I didn’t see “pretty.” I didn’t see me. I saw a new version of myself I wasn’t prepared to meet.

That’s when I fell in love with wigs.

At first, I knew nothing about them. So I did what many women do — I went down the rabbit hole of watching YouTube videos, trying to find women who looked similar to me in complexion, face shape, and style. Choosing the right wig became trial and error, especially when it came to color. Some colors looked beautiful online and completely wrong in person.

But one thing I discovered is that I can wear almost any color — although blonde became my favorite.

I remember a cousin of mine, who was a beautician years ago, once saying that after a certain age, women should lighten their hair so their age wouldn’t appear as harsh. She was well into her seventies with beautiful golden blonde hair, and she carried herself with such elegance. In her younger days, she reminded me so much of Lena Horne. She was one of my favorite cousins, and maybe without realizing it, she influenced me more than she knew.

So I leaned toward golden blondes because they compliment my skin tone best.

My absolute favorite wig — the one I own four of — is a Sensationnel wig called Glenna. And that says a lot because I used to only wear human hair wigs. But something about Glenna won me over. It’s big Texas hair — bold, glamorous, noticeable. The kind of hair that walks into the room before you do. The color turns heads, and honestly, it gave me confidence during a season when I desperately needed it.

Losing your hair can feel devastating because for so many women, hair becomes attached to beauty and identity. I used to tell my daughter all the time how much I wished I had pretty hair like hers because somewhere along the way I convinced myself that hair was what made me beautiful.

But the older I get, the more I realize that hair is not what makes us who we are.

Beauty is not rooted in strands, styles, or appearances. True beauty begins inside of us — in our resilience, our kindness, our wisdom, our spirit, and the way we continue to love ourselves even through change.

So never allow anyone to define you by your looks.

Because at 60 years old, this is my truth:
I may have lost hair, but I did not lose myself.