I'm not like the other girls, and I certainly don't look like ‘em either. I don't look like those girls with their hair reaching down the middle of their backs or the girls with their hair cut to barely brush at their shoulders. I don't look like those girls whose hair is slicked back into a high ponytail or playful pigtails. I don't even look like those girls with hair that doesn't reach past their necks, instead curling around their ears. I don't look like them; Those regular girls with the hair. Because I don't have any. I hardly notice anymore that I don't look like the others. It feels like forever since I've lost my hair. It happened a long time ago when I was little. It's been so long that I don't even remember what age I was, let alone the time and date. Though I do remember waking up to chunks of hair layered atop my pillow each night and, when washing, wads of hair slipping out of my head and covering the tub's floor. I remember brushes combing through thin hair and gatherings tangled onto the comb's teeth. Patches and patches of hair left, reminding me of the top of an old man's head. Hair falling and falling out till I had nothing left. I remember having thick, big-curled, dark chocolate-colored hair that matched my eyes and that fell down to the the middle of my back. I once had beautiful hair but now I had none. I lost my hair, and I lost it to alopecia. After my loss many people asked what had happened to my hair. They would ask me if I had cancer, and when I told them it was alopecia, they didn't know what that was. “But what is alopecia?” they would ask. I didn't know the actual definition so I'd say, “It's when you loss your hair from the body parts in which there is usually hair.” The real definition is: the partial or complete absence of hair from areas of the body where it normally grows: baldness. I used to be embarrassed when people asked that question, but now I don't mind it. I'm glad people aren't just assuming what I had and just asked me instead. I remember when I was first diagnosed with aloepecia Mom started taking me to the psychiatrist to talk about my feelings to make sure I was handling the loss well. I was, kinda. I didn't cry over my loss, but I wasn't happy about it. I missed my hair. And to make up for it, it was replaced with pretty dresses. After my loss, mom was getting me more dresses and kept telling me I was pretty, or that I was beautiful. That having hair didn't make me look any less beautiful than I already was. She kept telling me these things, and I was listening and believing what she was telling me... but I missed my hair. I started wearing scarves of any and all colors wrapped around my head when the weather was warmer and wearing hats in the winter when it got cold. But I still missed my hair. I was wearing scarves and hats for awhile before mom sat me down and asked me if I wanted a wig. I don't remember what my first wig looked like, but my second one was handmade by one of mom's friends. Had to sit there for an hour or two so she could glue pieces of hair to a cap.And then sit there some more for her to style it. It was cut short to the top of my neck in the back and longer towards the front and dark brown like my hair used to look when I had hair. Once it grew to small for me, I got two more: one long dark straight colored one that went down the middle of my back and one light, golden-brown with curls. I hated those wigs. They were itchy and uncomfortable. Not to mention, I looked terrible in the light curled one. Since then, I've gotten rid of them and gotten a new wig I actually wore, but after some time I stopped wearing that too. It wasn't until I was watching hair tutorial videos (don't know why I was watching those; I have no hair) that I took out my wig and went to a hair stylist to get it styled. It looks way better. I still have that wig now, and I still wear it too, but when I'm not wearing my wig I'm always wearing hats. Certain hats. I'm very picky when it comes to me wearing hats. I know what looks good on me. My hats always have to have a puff ball on the top. It doesn't matter the color (though I only wear a black and a white one), but it has to have a puff ball or I won't wear it. I don't miss my hair anymore. So much time has passed that I don't remember what it felt like to have it. When I wear my wig now, I get annoyed at the hair in my face but I still feel good. I feel good anyways but I feel fancy when I've got my wig on. I don't need anything to make me feel beautiful or pretty. My wigs don't make me feel any more beautiful, as opposed to not wearing my wig. And wearing my scarves and hats don't make me feel any more beautiful either. I know i'm perfect the way I am -hair or no hair- and I don't need to look like others to know that.