Trichotillomania

“Trichotillomania is commonly referred to as hair-pulling disorder,” the psychiatrist said, looking over her glasses at me. Without thinking, I had begun to pick at the beard hairs on my chin, pulling them out one by one. I should have shaved this morning. The hairs would have been harder to pull and therefore less of a draw to my subconscious during this consultation.

“You are clearly exhibiting common symptoms, though you seem to have confined it mainly to facial hair if I am not mistaken.”

“Yes, I would say I keep my hair pulling between my hairline and shirt collar.”

“Your case is not one that merits a prescription, in my opinion. If you were pulling the hair off the top of your head or dramatically affecting your appearance, I would be more concerned. I assume after shaving; you largely do not notice that you have been pulling out facial hair.”

“That is true, and if I shave, it is usually a better day, with less subconscious battling.”

I left the psychiatrist’s office feeling somewhat relieved. Reading online had made me think I would need anti-depressants or therapy to manage my disorder. She left me feeling better after only requesting a follow up in six months. I decided to take a walk. Winter had truly set in the week before. The large pond downtown had frozen over nicely. Today, however, the temperature was pushing thirty degrees, and the sunshine felt nice.

I chose a spot on the bench facing the pond. It was a nice sunny spot, lending a good view of the skaters on the pond. Another person sat by me shortly after, though I did not glance up right away. Pretending to look at the clock on the nearest light post, I chanced a look at whom was sitting next to me. She was beautiful. With my propensity to pull out facial hair, I immediately noticed she had none, not just a lack of beard and mustache, but a lack of eyebrows and eyelashes as well. She wore a light blue scarf around the top of her head and looked quite stylish. Being a self-researched expert in hair conditions, I realized right away she probably had alopecia totalis. Her body basically attacked her hair follicles, but I was not drawn to her because of her lack of hair. It was her eyes and smile that lit up the already sunny day.

“Hello,” she said politely.

“Uh, hi,” I muttered back. “Before I say too much about me, I want you to know I have trichotillomania and tend to have uncontrollable urges to pick at my hair.”

“Are you making fun of me because I have alopecia?”

“Oh, no! I genuinely have a condition. I just met with a psychiatrist. I am sorry. I do not know why I am telling you all this. You are very pretty.”

She blushed. “Thank you. Let’s try this all again. I am Elaine.”

“Hi, I am Kerry. Would you be willing to meet me for coffee sometime?”

“No,” she giggled. “You can buy me a tea when you get coffee sometime though.”

I uttered a small sigh of relief. Though nearly ruining the first impression, I would now have a second chance to not bring up my psychiatrist right away when I saw her next time. We exchanged phone numbers, and I continued my walk to my car. I stopped to unlock the car and pulled a few hairs from my mustache. I could not get over her lack of facial hair. That would really solve a lot of my problems. I guess there was always laser hair removal. Ah, I was doing it again. The psychiatrist told me to dwell on my facial hair less. Maybe I would be lucky and get to spend more time with Elaine and less time thinking about my facial hair.