Full of my glory: How it use to be

As a child I was always doted on because of two things: my big brown eyes and my long thick black hair. People were astonished by the amount of hair I had on my tiny little head. I had enough for two people! As I got older, women began to envy me because of it and men loved me for it.
I have always been natural, never had a perm. I can remember sitting in the kitchen on my mother's "blue kit" as we called it. My mother would press my hair with a hot comb for what seemed like an eternity, making sure every little strand of hair was completely straight. I sat on that kit for many years until the middle caved in. I would say I was around the age of sixteen when I finally began to straighten my own hair using the plug-in electric comb.(Remember those?! Ok I'm feeling a little old.) With this new found independence and control came more frequent hair straightening and more scabs from burning my ears, fingers, scalp, and even my face! I started to miss those blue kit days. I may have been injured a bit but how beautiful and flowing the finished product appeared! People declared it had to be weave because according to popular belief, a black girl couldn't possibly have thick, long, beautiful hair. Needless to say I was pleased to trump that false belief as I allowed doubters to run their fingers through my long tresses. I felt proud and important. I felt beautiful. Now don't get me wrong. There's nothing improper about taking pride in your appearance, nothing wrong with having a healthy confidence in how you look. For me it went beyond that. It went deeper. I started to draw my self-esteem from the amount of hair I had. It became my glory, the one aspect of myself that I could look to when I was feeling low and insecure. Instead of viewing myself as a beautiful person with pretty hair, I saw myself as a girl who was beautiful because of the hair. I did not realize that my hair had become my idol, my sense of value and worth until it began to disappear. As it went I was left grappling for something to be proud of, something to make me feel beautiful and important. As the hair went so went my self-esteem.
Who would have thought? Something out of the blue, something I never expected would happen became my reality. My hair was falling out. Devastated, embarrassed, and confused I desperately wanted to know and understand what was happening. What was the cause of my hair loss? Was I sick? Will the hair ever grow back? Little did I know, the ultimate question that this journey would reveal, the answer that would matter the most, is where would my beauty come from now? It was time to find truth. Stay tuned........