Welcome To..."Why Not Me"? Photos by Tristan Richardson, Radcliff, KY
If you have
or know someone who has Alopecia, this is a must-read for you and them.
In January 08 , Julia Crittendon and I met for brunch and she shared her
dream of writing a book on self-acceptance, self-awareness and living
with Alopecia. Her concept was a simple one - ask women living with
Alopecia to share their life experiences.
Personally, my
Alopecia life experience has not been a positive nor accepted one. As most of you
already know, no matter what your age is, you can only have your heart and soul torn to shreds once before you totally shut down. Twice, you take your heart and soul and lock them away forever. There will not be a third time. Professionally, I
can hold my own behind the facade I have created. So when Julia ask for
my story, I choose the professional side to write about, the personal
side was just to painful to expose again. You will find my story below.
The amazing thing
about Metamorphosis, "Inspirational Stories of Women Living with
Alopecia", is the amount of women who have shared their personal
stories. You will find women going down the path from wanting to commit
suicide to finally accepting themselves for who they are (I am definitely not there - yet). They are
bringing awareness to what affects 1 out of every 4 women and they have
showcased to the world the beautiful side of this physical and
emotional condition.
Why Not Me? by Holly Ralston Oyler Reprinted with permission
When I was three or four I remember playing store in the house using items from the kitchen. At age seven, I decided to open a lemonade stand on the side of the two-lane country road we lived on. For day’s, I sat there and talked to Monopoly (he had hair), my imaginary friend that lived in our mail box. Lots of cars went by, but no one would stop. Friday was grocery day and Mother strongly suggested I close up shop and go with her. While we were there, I noticed that the busy part of the small store was the strawberry section in the produce isle. At home we had a huge garden, full of strawberries...my Dad's strawberries. I took my weekly allowance (50 cents) and talked the store owner into selling me those cute little strawberry baskets for a penny each.
The next morning I was up early and in the garden, filling my baskets. I put them on my table with a sign that said “50 cents each”. Cars started stopping and at one point, Mother had to come out of the house and help me. Within hours, all fifty baskets were gone and I had a grand total of $25.00. I called my Dad and asked him to stop at the grocery store on the way home and buy more baskets and some brown paper bags. He did, not having a clue what I was doing. When he found out I was selling his strawberry patch, he was less than amused, but he let me continue. The next day I again filled the baskets and set them out on my table. Only this time, when a person bought the berries, I gently put them in the paper bags and kept the baskets to refill. At seven years old, I found the beauty of niche’ marketing. Drivers on a country road did not need lemonade, but they did need strawberries for dinner. Little did I know where that one experience would lead me in life.
Alopecia Areata came and went throughout my childhood without much attention paid to it by me. I loved fashion, so I started wearing hats and scarves. At age nine I loss all my hair, but it grew back after a year. When I was 16 the spot patches returned. I cut my hair in the latest Sasson asymmetrical haircut to camouflage the different lengths and charged through high school with “fashion hair”. The medical community told my parents I was a nervous child and that was the cause of the Alopecia. At age 13 I started working in TV on a local bandstand show and in a department store as a teen spokesperson, so I don’t think my nerves had anything to do with the hair loss. After graduation (with all my hair grown in), I continued working in the TV, fashion and cosmetic worlds.
My world consisted of perfect people in perfect makeup and clothes. Not much else earned my attention. In the Spring of 1975 my husband was transfered from Kentucky to Los Angeles due to his job. Once there, my Father became ill and I was commuting back and forth once a week for three months until his death. When I returned to LA my world started tumbling out of control. My hair started falling out again, my sense of self was gone and I retreated to our bedroom and would not come out. Within months, my hair was completely gone. No one could tell me how to help myself and the industry I had worked so long and hard in totally abandoned me. I had scheduled an appointment with a huge national company only to arrive and be told “sorry, we only work on normal people”. I was crushed.
After months of self pity and anger I sought mental help. That worked for a while, but then the doctors started prescribing pill after pill and soon I had a major prescription drug problem. I knew if we stayed in California, I would die. Ray asked for a transfer back to Kentucky, and within weeks we were house hunting. As we were driving to a house, we passed a shopping center and I just calmly pointed to a store named “The Gift Horse” and announced that my new store would be located there in a few months. Ray just rolled his eyes, which means “oh great - here we go again”. We bought the house, went back to California, sold and packed up the house there and we were coming home to Kentucky.
When we arrived at the airport and our luggage didn’t and life as I had known it for two years ended. All my prescriptions were in the luggage, so it was a cold turkey weekend for me, Ray, two dogs, a cat and a bird - all housed in a hotel that did not allow pets. Ray headed for the new house to work and took some of the pets and I just sat and stared at the walls with the rest of them, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. After a few days the luggage was delivered to the hotel. Ray came in after a long day’s work to find me sitting on the floor looking at the dozens of prescription bottles lined up on the dresser. I remember thinking about seeing the blue sky for the first time in years and how interesting the white fluffy clouds were. I didn’t want that to end, so I asked Ray to pack it all up and get rid of it. He did without question.
After getting settled into the house I was getting my “self” back and participating in life for the first time in a really long time and it felt wonderful. I finally ventured into the Gift Horse to see “my new store space”. The owner was there and we started talking about the store and when she told me she had been located there for 15 years, my mood sank. However, my heart was drawing up the floor plan and forging ahead. I started researching cosmetic labs and putting a product line together. Then I started ordering samples and Ray flew into a panic mode.
A few weeks later I went into the store again and noticed something rather odd. There was a lot less merchandise and everyone moving at warp speed. I asked what was going on and they informed me that “just last week, the house over on Chenoweth that Mary had wanted to buy became available and she jumped on it. They were going to be moving in a matter of weeks”. I walked out and headed for the shopping center leasing office, walked in and said I wanted to lease the Gift Horse space. The shopping center owner looked up and said “you are kidding, right? I just received her notice ten minutes ago”. Needless to say, I drove home with a lease for Ray to look over. The rest is as they say, history.
We opened in 1981 with gifts, cosmetics and skin care. Within a few months, things were going well, but not up to my expectations. Time for a “niche” marketing adjustment. I had used my Father’s inheritance to open the store and his words of wisdom came flowing in one day. “Do what you know how to do, offer quality products and service, do it with your heart and soul and don’t get greedy”. I knew hair loss and I knew how to give quality customer service. Over the next 28-years the business grew a lot, took a few turns along the way into other areas like public speaking, writing and designing, but it always came back full circle to it’s original niche concept.
So, I now, at 62, I ask myself “why not me” when it comes to my hair loss. What better person to help others deal with their image needs? Knowing the lives I have touched so personally gets me through the really bad and down times I experience and yes, they still come around every so often.
When I ventured into the chemotherapy market one of my first clients died after six months. When her Mother went into check on her, she found her with a note in hand saying “thank Holly for letting me die with dignity”. I knew the moment her Mother handed me that note that I was in the right place, at the right time in my life and that it had all been pre arranged by a higher being.
Now, after so many years I also understand why none of my dolls ever had hair. I always choose the bald ones and if I did receive one with hair, I would cut it down to the scalp and off within a day or so.
Amazing how childhood things become so clear and full circle in our lives.
Holly Ralston Oyler Louisville, Kentucky
Copyright 1994 - 2009 by Holly Ralston Oyler, Holly Cosmetics, Hollycosmetics.com and Medical Image Products. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and publisher. Individuals may download and print pages for their personal use. All articles and content are available for reprint used with permission and author credit. For permissions, email Holly at hollyoyler@mac.com
When I was three or four I remember playing store in the house using items from the kitchen. At age seven, I decided to open a lemonade stand on the side of the two-lane country road we lived on. For day’s, I sat there and talked to Monopoly (he had hair), my imaginary friend that lived in our mail box. Lots of cars went by, but no one would stop. Friday was grocery day and Mother strongly suggested I close up shop and go with her. While we were there, I noticed that the busy part of the small store was the strawberry section in the produce isle. At home we had a huge garden, full of strawberries...my Dad's strawberries. I took my weekly allowance (50 cents) and talked the store owner into selling me those cute little strawberry baskets for a penny each.