Trichotillomania

“An abnormal desire to pull out one’s hair”

It felt good to pull. Like slipping out of a pairof tight stockings or watching a match catchflame, the relief inside me building the waywater pressure does behind a worn-down damuntil my fingers, wrist, and mouth would workthemselves up into an addictive tandem. Likesneezing or breathing, it was a need, a command,to explore the tendrils, to taste the self, to bringeach hair, soft and slippery as a newborn bearcub, to my tongue.

And in the mornings before school, mymother would sweep a comb across the remnantsof my curls to hide the baldness that spread, likecompulsive constellations, against my scalp