About two years ago, after years of accommodating loss of eyebrows and a receding hairline, my dermatologist said, “tell me about your hair loss.” I had been told it was just a normal aging issue. My hair stylist kept changing how she trimmed my once thick and wavy hair, and I resorted to eyebrow products and thickening shampoos.

 

After a scalp biopsy confirmed a diagnosis of Scaring Frontal Fibrosing Alopecia, I underwent months of treatments that “might” slow the progression of hair loss, but there was nothing that would regrow lost hair. After a series of scalp injections, antibiotics that caused stomach problems and daily applications of steroid lotion, my receding hairline finally reached the point where no hairstyle could conceal the fact that my appearance had drastically changed. Such treatments may be effective for some but were not working for me. I no longer looked like “me” and avoided photos and mirrors when possible. 

​

I struggled with facing the idea that I was too vain and that hair should not define me, but I finally realized that it was more about identity than vanity. I looked blank and featureless from my eyes to the top of my head.

 

At that point I began researching SFFA and looking for solutions that might restore my sense of self, and came across Strands Luxe. Over several weeks I returned to the website and read the comments of those with my condition.

 

Still battling a sense of guilt over perceived vanity, I finally called the number and spoke with Jennifer Fenninger, who scheduled an appointment and asked me to text her several pictures. A week later my husband and I met her, expecting a consultation and, if I decided to move forward, a wait of weeks to receive a hairpiece. (Note, I asked my husband to go because I wanted input from someone who knew me before my hair loss; someone who could “recognize” if a hairpiece made me look too drastically different.) 

​

Jennifer was tremendously comforting and encouraging, described her process, and answered all our questions. Then, she brought out a medical “topper”, not a wig, and tried it on me. (We were incredibly lucky that she had the right color and style in stock!)

 

I’ll never forget my reaction as I looked in the mirror. Close to tears, I thought “There you are!” I could see my husband nodding his head. It was my style, color, just fuller than mine had been. With Jennifer’s many years of expertise, she identified the extra fullness before I recognized it.

 

We then were told the price, and she left us to discuss it, but my husband called her back immediately, saying,” yes.”  I still thought I was wearing a sample and would have to wait,  but she began trimming and showing me how to attach it and blend it in with my own hair integrated and I walked out that day, excited and yet nervous about how close friends and family would react. 

​

Jennifer had reassured me that while they might notice some difference, they likely would not assume it was not all mine.

 

Just over a month later I can say I have found that to be true. Our two daughters, whom I see often, noted that I was wearing my hair differently but did not know it was enhanced since it so perfectly matches my color and style. One did mention that I look younger, friends and acquaintances have commented that they like my hairstyle. I have passed beyond the anxiety of what others may think and moved forward with confidence and regained my sense identity.

​

With Jennifer’s continued support, I have found attaching and wearing it all day is easy and comfortable. She has had me return to demonstrate additional care and cleaning and answered all my questions.

 

I do have one regret. That is that when my hair loss reached the point where I could no longer accommodate it with a change in style, or constant wearing of hats,

 

I spent about six months feeling so uncomfortable and unfamiliar,  and assumed my new normal would be to continue trying to adjust to an image that did not reflect who I am inside. There was a solution that would have saved me that time of a sense of loss of self.

 

Thank you, Jennifer.