I was in eighth grade when I got my very first set of hair extensions. I was 14 years old, my hair was chin-length, and I absolutely hated it.
“Be patient,” my friends and family tried to tell me. “Your hair will grow!”
And it did grow, but it didn’t grow fast enough. A milestone event was approaching (my middle school graduation – LOL) and I wanted long locks.
And fast.
I begged my mother to take me to the “fake hair store,” wherever that was. Knowing how desperately I wanted some extra hair length (and how slowly my natural hair grew), she agreed. After rummaging though a local beauty supply store, we managed to find a single track of hair that perfectly matched my hair color.
Before heading to my eighth grade graduation ceremony, I took my newly purchased hair piece and wrapped it around my ponytail. It wasn’t a lot of hair (literally a single track), but it made a difference. My hair was instantly thicker and longer in a matter of seconds.
I was hooked.
By the time I reached high school, I had become addicted to the effortlessness of hair extensions.
I dyed my hair platinum blonde, made the switch to clip-in extensions, and never looked back.
Fake hair was never something I "needed," just something I preferred. My hair was short, but it was still "acceptable” by most standards. I simply wanted length without the wait.
But it didn't take long for "fake" hair to become a very real source of my confidence.
I never wanted to leave the house without my extensions. Even if I was only going on a food run or headed to the gym, I had to wear my extensions. I felt naked without my thick tracks of hair.
There wasn't a hair extension I wouldn't try.
I had short extensions, long extensions, red tracks, platinum blonde tracks, "dirty blonde" tracks, brown tracks, even blue-tipped extensions.
It didn't really matter what the extensions looked like, as long as I had a fresh set ready to be clipped in before I left the house.
However, years of wearing extensions started taking a toll on my scalp.
My thin strands were already damaged from bleaching my naturally brown hair. Wearing three sets of heavy extensions with metal clips that dug into my scalp definitely didn't help my hair health.
However, I ignored the pain and continued to wear my extensions, day after day. Sometimes I even slept in them — a huge no-no.
I'd notice a few strands of hair would fall out here and there, but I was able to convince myself it wasn't really an issue.
...until one day when I noticed a tiny bald spot.
Last year in April, my friend was visiting NYC from Cleveland. To document her quick trip to the city, she purchased a Polaroid camera.
We had a blast taking photos of ourselves enjoying the Manhattan nightlife — but this particular snapshot sobered me up instantly.
I was shocked to discover that I wasn't just missing a few pieces of hair; there was a chunk on the side of my head that was completely hairless.
Needless to say, I panicked.
I did my best to "cover up" the patch, but I couldn't get that Polaroid out of my head.
The following morning, I decided to position myself in my bathroom mirror and take a few photos of the back of my head so that I could see how my hair looked at every angle.
After taking a few pics, I scrolled through my over-the-shoulder mirror selfies and was horrified to see that my hair was thinning.
I immediately called my mother, freaking out.
She managed to calm me down, but after looking at my photos, she agreed that there was noticeable damage. She suggested I make an appointment with a dermatologist.
After spending hours researching nearby specialists, I finally found a doctor who seemed like she would be a good fit for me.
After explaining my issues, the doctor ran several tests on me to figure if my extensions were causing my hair loss — or if something more serious was going on.
She tested me for Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS), an endocrine system disorder that sometimes results in hair loss. But that wasn't it.
Once PCOS was ruled out, my doctor arranged for me to see an endocrinologist who would determine if I had any thyroid issues that might cause hair loss. But the endocrinologist confirmed that my thyroid was "normal."
Still unsure what caused such sudden breakage, my doctor decided to cut a patch of skin from the side of my head and sent the sample over to a lab where specialists could look at my hair follicles under a microscope.
"We'll at least be able to figure out if your hair is still actively falling out," she explained.
I was nervous, but had hope that my hair issues were only temporary.
Nearly a week passed before my doctor called me with my results. As it turned out, I had "traction alopecia."
Initially, I panicked. I heard the word "alopecia" and immediately assumed I had "alopecia areata."
But I didn't — I learned that alopecia areata is an autoimmune skin disease in which the immune system attacks the hair follicles and causes hair on the scalp to fall out. More often than not, the hair does not grow back.
Traction alopecia, on the other hand, is hair loss due to traction, or pulling. It's often reversible and occurs when you put your hair under constant strain. It can be caused by very tight ponytails, tight braids or cornrows, dreadlocks, and — ahem — extensions.
Basically, my extensions were the root of my problems — and if I didn't want to irreversibly damage my hair, I'd have to give the extensions a rest.
But how? After wearing extensions for nearly a decade, I didn't know how to feel confident with my "real" hair. However, I knew I was lucky that I had caught the breakage early before the damage was beyond repair.
As difficult as it would be, I vowed to give my hair a break.
I stopped bleaching my hair and let my dark roots grow in naturally, but I had an incredibly hard time ditching the extensions.
It's no exaggeration to say that I was addicted to my extensions. They were like a security blanket, and it was difficult to let them go.
But luckily I finally found solutions that worked for me.
I'd wear my hair in a loose buns or low ponytails, whenever the temptation to wear extensions arose, I'd try out fun wigs, Kylie Jenner-style.
It took a year of "rest" (and trust me, it was a long, grueling year) but my natural mane was finally ready to make its debut.
To say I was nervous to show off my real hair after "hiding" it for a decade is an understatement.
After hiding my extension-free head from the public for 10 years, I posted this glamour shot to Instagram.
This photo (taken by the talented Brittany Fowler) marked the first time in 10 years that my 100% real, naturally-colored hair color saw the light of day.
I'll admit — I'm still learning how to love and accept my real hair as it is.
I know I'm lucky. My hair is thin — but it's still healthy, growing hair. The texture of my hair is not discriminated against in the workplace, nor is my hair thinning to the point where I'm worried that I'll go bald.
So it might seem silly that it's a day-to-day struggle for me to "accept" my hair. But in this internet age, it's hard to *not* to compare my hair to the models and influencers I see on my Instagram feed.
I'm learning how to love my appearance without extensions.
Will I stay away from extensions for life? Probably not. (I live in NYC — I'm tempted to switch up my look every single day!)
But I finally realize I don't need to wear extensions to feel beautiful. It took me 10 years (and a hair-loss scare) to get to that place, but I'm proud to say I'm there.
