Where's the beef?

Have you ever seen that old Wendy’s commercial with three little old ladies inspecting a large hamburger bun only to find a teeny, tiny piece of meat inside? While two of them discuss the greatness of the bun, one of them repeatedly exclaims, “where’s the beef?”

As I was drinking my coffee this morning and thinking about this blog, I suddenly imagined you wondering why I don’t include photos of myself or my hair in my posts. Out of nowhere, I heard that little old lady calling out, “where’s the beef?” I laughed and immediately Googled the video.

It’s a fair question. Sometimes we want to see exactly what it is we’re talking about, don’t we? Maybe we’re simply curious or want to understand something that we haven’t had previous context for. Maybe we want visual confirmation that someone else is in a similar boat to our own. Maybe we want a point of comparison, or maybe, just like slowing down when we pass a fender bender on the highway, we want to really take stock of what is happening and then at some level be thankful for our own wellbeing that day. This is understandable and normal! I have thought and felt these things many, many times – you are not alone.

The reality is that there are several wonderful alopecia blogs and vlogs out there with women and men who courageously and openly share pictures of themselves and their alopecia as part of their own journeys. I may one day choose to emulate them, and I’m certainly leaving that door open. For now, however, I have very intentionally chosen not to include images of myself or my hair with my writing.

So, let’s talk about why. It would be reasonable to assume that I made this choice at some level out of fear of being seen, but that’s not the case this time. I think there are more than enough ways to “see” alopecia. Just type “alopecia” or “alopecia areata” into the search engine of your choice and you will come up with images galore. You can very quickly get the idea of what it is and what it does.

My intention for this blog is to reveal the heart of an alopecian, rather than show the head of one. While some bloggers balance these things beautifully, I feel a strong pull to write this story without illustrations and to let you fill in the blanks in your own hearts and minds.

My husband and I dated long-distance for years before we were married and permanently co-located. This was pre-video chatting, so our primary options to communicate and deepen our relationship were phone calls, letters and emails. We didn’t have the benefit of simple visual cues from body language and facial expressions. In retrospect, while in some ways it made connection a little harder, it also made it a little deeper. We had to work to understand each other. We had to really listen. We had to absorb and process. It was during these years that we fell in love and decided to spend our lives together. While we were beyond thankful when the day came to move past this phase and to be together in person, I don’t think we would ever trade the strong foundation of mutual understanding laid during that time.

I picture you reading this, just as you may picture me writing it. Although technically "unseen," you are actually seeing more of me than I typically dare to share. By simply reading this blog and listening with an open heart and mind you are helping another human being lay the foundation of sharing herself with world -- and there, dear friends, is the "beef!"