Counting Hairs

Okay. I obsess yet again. Please indulge. But I mean, dude. Look.


I didn't take photos of the spots lurking under her hair because I figure they're hidden, right, and that's a blessing. Right?

She don't care.


The upside is this: after her bath last night, there was only one strand of hair left in the tub instead of a pinchful! So maybe she's stopped losing it? I hope!

Despite the good news in the tub, I was feeling kind of dejected and discouraged and sorry for myself last night -- hey, it's all about me, after all. I've dreamed of having a daughter so I can play with her hair, make french braids, pig tails, Swiss girl braids, all that. Sniffle. Poor me.

Okay. Anyway. I went out and re-looked up the article that clued me into celiac disease. Turns out it was an Italian study and something like 3 people out of 100 who had alopecia tested positive for celiac disease. I'm not good at math, so I'll take it on faith that the staticians claim that's too many to be a coincidence.

Anywho, also one of the boys in the study had alopecia totalis. He lost all of his body hair. But he regrew it all when he went on a gluten-free diet, which is amazing because what I've read is that alopecia totalis has the utmost lowest possibility of hair regrowth.

But alopecia is unpredictable. So you know. Grasping at straws and still feeling sorry for myself.

Kipp scolded me last night for the pity party, pointing out to me that Kiki is still and always will be beautiful, and that I need to stop focussing on the hair or she's going to pick up on it and focus on it too. Gah. I hate when he's right.

I wish there was a hair saint I could pray to.