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When Life Gives You Bald Spots, Something Something Lemonade

31/03/2024 @ 21:46

A nondescript cardboard box arrives at my doorstep. Inside lies my latest acquisition: a blonde wig with dark roots. It cost a whopping £22.99 on Amazon (scandalous) - this one to be exact. Now, to those who don't know (and why would you/how could you because I haven't mentioned it before on the blog): I don’t wear wigs for fashion. I’m not some trendsetting diva or one of them young pretty influencers. I have alopecia areata, which means my hair occasionally decides to play hide-and-seek. So, here I am, unboxing my new hair substitute like a budget-conscious superhero.

Alopecia areata is an autoimmune condition that affects hair follicles, leading to hair loss. It typically presents as discrete bald patches on the scalp but can occur in other hair-bearing areas of the body. The exact cause remains unclear, but immune system dysfunction and genetic susceptibility play a role. There are various forms, including patchy alopecia areata, totalis (complete scalp hair loss), universalis (total body hair loss), and diffuse alopecia areata. Treatment options vary, and regrowth often occurs

I slip on the wig, and voilà! Instant transformation. I gaze into the mirror, half expecting Beyoncé to wink back at me. But no, it’s just me - the regular fat plain mortal but now with a decent-looking hairpiece that's just a tiny bit more glamorous than the previous Flower-destroyed one. Honestly, the new hair's the highlight of my existence right now because, you guessed it... Flower is still sick.

Oh Flower. My sweet, snotty-nosed girl. 😭 The germs decided to throw an after-party in her ears. Because why not? GP surgeries are on vacation over Easter, local doctors sipping piña coladas on a tropical island somewhere. Meanwhile, Flower’s misery index is off the charts. So, if she seems miserable, it’s off to big city hospital A&E we go! Ten-plus-hour queues, here we come!

In an alternate universe, I would (AND SHOULD, UNIVERSE!!!) be tending virtual crops in Pelican Town. But alas, Flower demands my attention. Late at night, when the moon hangs low and my brain resembles overcooked spaghetti, I think, “Maybe I’ll play Stardew Valley tonight, finally!” But focus? Ha! Stardew requires focus - the kind I lost somewhere between diaper changes and negotiating with a tiny dictator screaming in agony and kicking me with surprising might. So, the game remains untouched, like a forgotten turnip in the field.

But! The “official” Easter holiday has dawned upon us. Forget the weekend; it didn’t count. I’m hoping for a sickness-free celebration. May chocolate eggs rain down, and may the bunny bless us with immunity. But who am I kidding? Flower’s cold is like that bloody clingy ex who won’t take the hint so, here’s to hoping I don’t spend the entire two weeks in a tissue-filled haze.

(I will, I know I will, but I'll allow myself a little bit of denial at least.)

One of the main reasons I want not only for myself to be healthy but for Flower also to make a speedy recovery is because the local amusement park has flung open its gates for the spring-summer season! Roller coasters, cotton candy, and dizzying spins await... or maybe just a slow toddler horsey ride and wandering around aimlessly because Flower's too young for most equipment and I'm too fat to join her on any she'd be allowed on.

Oh, and an overpriced hot dog. Got to have that overpriced hot dog.

But it'll be fun because I'll make it fun; life’s too short to be serious. I'm a fun mum. I AM.

And so the epic saga of a wig-wearing, toddler-wrangling, Stardew-ignoring she-warrior continues. Until next time: stay snotty, stay sane.

PS. I yet again have a new (twink!) alt: Twinklegoat.

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