Bald and Beautiful: How I Left My Wig Behind and Strolled into Work Like a Boss!

Your Bald Bestie .
May 4
2 min read

On October 17, 2023, I woke up to a “normal” day filled with too many snooze-button smacks, a mad dash to the shower, and a barely made-it exit from my house. But something wasn’t normal about this day, and I knew it as soon as I closed the door behind me. No wig. For the first time in my 20-year relationship with wigs, I had decided to leave home without one, heading to work unapologetically and fully bald.

To say wigs have been my safety blanket is an understatement. I've had wigs longer than some people keep cars. Long, short, curly, or straight, wigs were more than an accessory; they were my armor. Long before my alopecia diagnosis, I struggled with thin edges and wished for fuller hair; wigs became a way to fit society's image of beauty and cover my dislike for areas of my hair. But as my alopecia journey evolved, so did I—at least in some spaces. I appeared on social media as the rebranded "Your Bald Bestie," engaging, sharing, and inspiring others without my wig. Yet, every morning before work, I'd fasten that armor back on, ensuring every strand was perfect and secure, ready to withstand a hurricane (or at least Toronto's wind gusts).

Still, there was a nagging feeling of discontent. Here I was, building community and encouraging authenticity, all while keeping a part of me hidden at work. So, on that October morning, I decided it was time to rip off the metaphorical (and literal) bandage. Outfit picked, lunch packed, and a casual “you look cute” from my mom—who didn’t realize how momentous this day would be—I left the house without hesitation. No second thoughts, no panicky car mirror checks. Just me, bare and free.

Walking into work, I never braced myself for possible reactions. And oh, there were reactions. My colleagues, many of whom have followed my journey, greeted me with “Good morning, gorgeous,” hugs, and smiles. Some even shed happy tears of excitement, as if they just watched their baby take their first steps. For those unaware of my story, there was a genuine surprise, some gasps, and the curious but kind, “Are you okay?” With confidence, I responded, “I’m fine. I have alopecia.” Full stop.

There was no shame, no regret. I had shown up, unapologetically bare, in the one place I never thought I could. I didn’t just survive that day; I thrived. I felt more myself than ever—a true embodiment of the “Your Bald Bestie” mantra. Over a year later, I haven’t touched a wig, and I don’t plan to. Wigs served their purpose, but now, I wear my bald head proudly as a canvas of self-love, an open invitation for conversation, and a living reminder that beauty defies stereotypes.

My journey that day was a liberating declaration: I don’t need hair to belong, to feel beautiful, or to make an impact. Every person who shares their hair loss story with me is a testament to what it means to be truly, unapologetically bare. So, here’s to showing up as I am —bald, fabulous, and bold.

Bald is just another way of saying 'less hair, more flair!'"

- Your Bald Bestie