I eat my hair
Me wearing a wig, with my boyfriend, Robert
Saturday 2nd June 2007
You know the satisfaction you get when you pick a scab? That inexplicable pleasure? It may be disgusting, but we often do things in the privacy of our own home we don't want the world to know about.
But, as ashamed as I am, I want you to know about my nasty habit. You'll think it's pretty revolting. In order for you to understand, let me take you back to 1997. I was 9 years old, and the teacher's voice was droning on.
'The square root of eight is... blah blah blah...'
School bored me even then.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a single strand of my long, brown hair resting on my jumper. Excitement bubbled inside me. A strange temptation nagged. It was a longing I couldn't ignore. I slid my fingers near the root of the hair, squeezed my pudgy little fingers tight together, and yanked hard. It didn't hurt. The tiny stinging felt quite nice, actually.
I eyed the hair for a second, then slowly put it in my mouth. It felt sticky, but tasted cool. I liked the sensation. Then I bit down. It was crispy, crunchy. Next, I chewed off the root, swallowed it and dropped the rest of the hair on the carpet. Lovely.
Back at home, where me and my mum, Christina, 36, lived with my grandparents, I ran to my room. As soon as the door swung shut, my heart started beating fast. Pulling out a hair, I popped it in my mouth, closed my eyes and sucked. Heaven. It sounds mad, but the release
was like popping a chocolate in my mouth. Best of all, it was free and there was a plentiful supply.
Soon I was doing it for 10 minutes a day, then for half-an-hour. Each time, I sucked on the roots, bit the end, then chucked the rest. It was my guilty secret. Until Mum caught me.
'Sarah, that's disgusting,' she snapped, as I had a quick treat between meals.
A few months later, I went to have a check-up at the dentist. As soon as the appointment was over, Mum turned to me with a face like thunder.
'Have you seen what you've done to yourself?' she stormed. 'The dentist's light was shining on the top of your head. Sarah, there's a huge bald patch.'
After that, the kids at school reminded me often enough. 'Bald Freak' soon became my nickname. Cruel, yes, but still not enough to make me stop. I went on like that for years. I varied the areas I pulled from, but my hair thinned dramatically.
There was still just enough for a ponytail, but also huge thin patches where my scalp showed through. By the time I'd turned 16, it was ridiculous. My long hair hung from the nape of
my neck and I had a fringe at the front. But nothing in between. I even got special permission to wear a baseball hat at school.
Then Mum finally flipped.
'Enough,' she stormed. 'I'm taking you to see a psychologist.'
A week later, I found myself sitting opposite an elderly woman who peered at me over her half-moon spectacles.
'So tell me about life at home,' she said.
Oh, please! Mum had split with my dad, James McPherson, 40, but I saw him every week and I didn't feel I'd missed out. Mum and I argued occasionally, but show me a 16-year-old who doesn't row with their parents.
'I argue with Mum sometimes,' I offered apologetically.
'That explains it,' she said.
So that's what they put my hair-eating down to.
Mum wasn't having any of it.
'Things aren't bad between us, are they?' she asked later.
I shook my head.
'I didn't know what else to say,' I cried. 'Maybe I am just a freak.'
But Mum wasn't listening, she was too busy logging onto the internet. Then...
'Bingo!' she cried.
She'd tapped hair pulling into a search, and hundreds of sites had come up. Loads of people
were talking about their hair-eating in chatrooms. There was even a name for it, trichotillomania, which basically means 'hair-pulling madness'. Mum and I read on in silence.
I've been doing it for three years, said Claire from Kent.
I like the way it feels, agreed Sarah from Essex.
And Jo from Barnsley? I've resorted to eating my pubic hair and eyelashes.
I stared at Mum, stunned.
'I don't know whether to laugh or cry,' I said eventually.
Mum took me to see my GP that afternoon. But he was baffled.
'I've never heard of it. And I don't know of any treatment,' he said.
Great. Back to square one.
But Mum, bless her, was determined not to give up on me. She went out the next day and got a real-hair wig on the NHS.
'We can have it styled any way you want,' she said.
'Like Gwyneth Paltrow?' I asked.
'Of course,' she smiled.
The wig didn't actually stop my hair-eating, but with it, my confidence soared. I started training as a nursery nurse and met a man, 20 year old Robert Paton. I told him about my condition, and he seemed completely unfazed.
'It doesn't bother me. I'm sure my habit of picking my toenails puts some people off,' he said.
Eleven months after we'd got together, I surprised Robert again.
'I'm pregnant,' I whispered.
We were both thrilled. But would my hair-eating affect the baby?
'I can't see why,' said my doctor. 'If you're only eating the tip of the hair, your body can easily digest it.'
During my pregnancy, I had no strange cravings — except for hair. But with very little of my own remaining, I turned to Robert.
'Do you mind?' I asked him, when I was three months' pregnant.
Well, his hair was long and thick. He had plenty to spare.
'Be my guest,' he said, bracing himself. At first, I worried his roots would taste disgusting. But they were just like mine. Delicious.
When Liam was born in July 2006, weighing 8lb 7oz, I had even more reason to stop. nd before you ask, no, I have never considered eating Liam's hair. I couldn't do that to him.
Liam's 9 months old now, and I'm all but bald. I don't want my son to grow up being bullied over his baldy mum. Perhaps having my fingers amputated is the answer? I see shampoo ads and feel like crying. I'd love to have long, shiny brown hair again, but the temptation to eat it would just be too great. So if there are any Pick Me Up readers out there who can help, then please speak up.
With a great husband and a beautiful son, I've got absolutely everything going for me. Except hair.
Check out more stories about people with unusual hobbies from the Pick Me Up archives:
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