I wrote this poem in response to my personal struggle and acceptance around female baldness. A few years ago I had taken to wearing a wig, but I didn’t like the way it felt, my scalp was always itchy, and my head felt like an oven. So I decided to stop wearing the wig and letting my hair be what it was: thin. Thanks to a good stylist and some good hair product, it’s not quite as noticeable. I get upset that it is socially acceptable to criticize a woman in regards to her grooming choices. I may choose to do something different in the future but for right now I’m keeping my hair, what little there is of it
just the way it is. So here’s me today, no make-up, thin hair, 45 years old. I’m ok with real.
Thank you to PPP Ezine for publishing this poem today.
Journeys and Journals 