All products are independently selected by our editors. If you buy something, we may earn an affiliate commission. As a beauty journalist, I can offer recommendations for the best mascaras without skipping a beat. Struggling with melasma? Not sure how to handle sudden breakouts? Come sit by me. But when it comes to thinning-hair advice, I'm just as mystified as the next person. I, too, am seduced by the before-and-after ads all over my Instagram feed.
Rinse and repeat. It was an overhead view of the crowd. Could this be me? It was. I had never seen this bird's-eye angle: It was clear my temples were receding, too, revealing parabola-shaped patches of scalp. What had happened to my shiny curtains of bouncy hair? Was this a medical problem?
Did I need to have my thyroid checked? By 70, my grandmother had only a few wisps of blonde cotton candy on her head. Maybe this was my genetic fate. This one hit hard. Thick, shiny, generally obedient hair has just always been a given for me, the thing that drew compliments and ratcheted up my confidence. I could always rely on a good hair day, no matter what my complexion, waistline, or mood delivered that morning.
A widening part or receding hairline might seem trivial. After all, survival is not dependent on hair. But the emotional impact of losing it can be profound. In fact, studies show a correlation between hair loss and mental health issues like depression and anxiety, particularly in women.
Hair is so closely tied to our identity that women will go to great lengths to avoid losing it. Throughout history, a healthy head of hair has been associated with female beauty. The societal pressure dates back to biblical times. As much as I wanted to rise above these millennia of beauty standards, I was gutted to see my once-glorious hair go poof before my eyes.
