Thick scalp

I moved to another city a year ago and since then my scalp was really really oily like i was soaked in oil and that made lose alot of hair and made my scalp so inflamed and irritated now I returned back to my old city in a vacation i am here since 2 weeks now and my scalp returned back to being dry and i love that but the weird thing is that all of my oilness which was in my scalp turned into thick dandruff stuck in my scalp and itching cant tell how happy i am because my scalp went dry again but than dandruff made me lose alot of hair because of itching how can i solve this any advice will be appreciated and will my hair grow back?

It’s been about 3 years since I’ve been taking meds so I don’t bald lol. I took finesteride for about 1.5-2 years, I stopped because i noticed it like completely decreased my semen fluid, not chill, if I was ever a little dehydrated either it would hurt to pee. So I switched to dutasteride last year. I had pretty great results with fin, it did a great job stabalizing my hair loss and minoxidil also helped regrow my temples / thicken areas. I have been using minoxidil from keeps, the liquid version pretty much every night, not 2x a day bc it’s so much work and it makes ur hair texture wack. Attached is a before starting fin and minox pic then is a pic 8 months later, it did so much work. Anyways I switched to dutasteride last year around July, I take 0.5 every other day, in October I noticed my front of my hairline was thinning more, like I’m losing hair (I’ve always maintained my front front until) and that’s continued quite a bit until even now. Like my hair has Forsure gotten worse, feels like I’ve lost all minoxidil gains except one tiny area and more of my scalp is showing. See a major difference in hair thickness as well. I stopped taking dutasteride for like 3 weeks because I noticed it was starting to hurt again when peeing. That was in January. I’ve always been really consistent with it, especially past few months and I make sure to stay hydrated. I just don’t know to do, what do you guys think, it’s been like 10 months since I started it, do I hold out and see if stabilization occurs over the next 6 or so months?
I’ve also though about 1. Switching to a topical dutasteride to see if it enhances efficacy or switch if I get any unwanted symptoms again
-has anyone done that and what has you experience been? Successful?

1. Switching to oral minoxidil or just a foam version so it’s not so harsh on the scalp

• I also use keeps ketoconzaole shampoo and thickening conditioner ( it has biotin and saw palmetto)

I shampoo like every 2 days and conditioner whenever I do so, just feel like my scalp is really dry and I think the liquid minoxidil causes that issue so the shampoo and conditioner help but it still feels like a little itchy / dry

1. Switching to rose Mary oil and other natural supplements for hair growth instead of minoxidil?

Could use some help
Attached are pics of my hair before finesteride (1st 3 pics), 8 months after finesteride (next 3 pics), what it’s like currently almost 3 years later, with unwashed hair (next 5 pics), then washed hair (next 2 pics)

Kasi I have Dry, thick medjo 2c hair tas frizzy pa siya tas yung sa end ng hair ko is straight tas sa scalp ko is dun na yung curl kasi when I was in elem nag pa rebond ako and 2022 Dec, nag pa rebond ulit ako and yun kaya ata ganto kinalabasan ng hair ko.
Any suggestion sa hair ko? huhu

Club Vlad sat near the confluence of Central Avenue and Washington Avenue, Albany’s two main thoroughfares. Two stories with blackout windows and a box office from when it used to be a movie theater, it was swarmed with people when Dom first spotted it ahead. He was somewhat familiar with it: He passed it every day on his way to work, and it was always busy around his time of evening, even on weeknights. Part of him always wanted to go inside and be a part of the scene, but he never did.
The man in sunglasses - his name was Joe - led Dom toward the club, and even before Joe spoke, Dom somehow knew that it was their destination. “There,” Joe said. “We’ll go around back.”
Dom and Joe had been walking for what seemed like an hour but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Dom stuck as close to Joe as possible as if for protection, and had become accustomed to his pungent smell. It was noticeable only at extremely close range, part sickly sweet and part…something else, something Dom could not place but still somehow recognized. They were two blocks from the club, maybe three, and Dom could hear the pulsing techo/house/whatever music as clearly as if he were standing in the middle of the dancefloor. He could hear the chatter of the people inside, or at least he imagined he could. He could smell them too: Beneath the odors of perfume, desperation, and spiritual rot was something richer, something blissful. Dom realized for the first time that he was parched - so parched - and drool filled his mouth.
A crowd of people waited outside Club Vlad, talking and laughing; some vaped, some stared down at their cellphones like Gollum with his precious ring. Dom’s first reaction was to avoid them. Perhaps sensing this…or perhaps feeling it himself…Joe ducked into an alleyway two doors down from the club. “We’ll go in the back,” Joe explained.
The back entrance to Club Vlad was a single door underneath a bare bulb. The music was so loud that Dom’s head began to throb. Inside, a dark hallway terminated in an archway filled with throbbing white light. Dread filled Dom as they approached it - he didn’t want to be around people - but thankfully they went into a room off the hall instead. An office. A cramped desk, a filing cabinet. A set of stairs disappeared into shadows.
“Sit,” Joe said.
Dom obeyed, sitting in the swivel chair.
Joe went up the stairs and Dom was alone. The deep coldness that had long settled into his bones made itself known again, and Dom leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his chest for warmth. The muffled music vibrated in his skull, setting his teeth on edge, and the various smells wafting in from the main room assaulted his senses. He was alternately repulsed and aroused by the crashing din of scents: The good, the bad, and the mouth watering. A sharp pain cut through his stomach like the killing edge of a knife, and Dom hugged himself tighter. Had his throat always been this dry? His throat felt like sandpaper; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and getting it unstuck hurt so badly that tears sprang to his eyes.
Dom rubbed his arms with his hands and tried to still his chattering teeth. He looked around for a blanket, a discarded jacket, something to cover himself with, but there was nothing. Only drifts of glitter on the floor and walls. He supposed it came from a party or something. He’d never been to a night club but it seemed fitting.
A sound drew his attention to the door leading back into the hall. A woman - no older than a girl - stood there, looking confused and unsteady. She was dressed in black, wore glow sticks around her wrists and neck, and held a red solo cup. “I have to pee,” she said drunkenly and laughed. “I thought this was the bathroom.”
A cold wind washed over Dom, and Joe was standing next to him. “The bathroom’s up here,” he said.
“Oh, good,” the girl laughed, “I thought it was here but I didn’t know. This is my first time here.” She held her cup aloft. “Take me to it.”
Joe glanced at Dom. “Come on.”
They formed a party as they climbed the stairs, Dom in the tear and Joe at the head. The girl stumbled and held onto the railing, talking incessantly. Her voice hurt Dom’s head, but the hot smell wafting from her was intoxicating. Drool coursed down his chin and his breathing came in short, hot bursts. Another sharp pain rent his stomach, and he winced.
At the top of the stairs, where the lights were cold and white, a woman in black stood by a doorway, her back ramrod straight and her eyes vacant. Her face was gaunt, her white flesh pulled tight across her skull. She wore a black dress and her black hair long and straight. Dom only caught a glance at her before looking away again.
She looked like a ghost.
“Show her the bathroom,” Joe said.
The woman’s eyes slowly, ponderles, went from Joe to the drunk girl. Her expression, like Joe’s, was dead. She had no expression. “This way.”
She and the drunk girl disappeared down the hall, and Joe led Dom into a room. Though it was pitch black, Dom could still see; not very well…but he could see. Suddenly, a blinding white light flicked on in front of him, causing him to stop and fall back a step. Ahead, through an archway, sat a vaulted chamber, at the center of which sat a man. To Dom’s light dazzled eyes, he seemed a proud king perched upon a throne, the skulls of his many enemies piled around him. Dom blinked and turned his head slightly to the side. His eyes began to adjust, and the world came into focus.
The man was not, as it had first seemed, sitting on a throne. Instead, he was esconded in a motorized wheelchair. The piles of skulls were actually various pieces of machinery, the kind you’d find in a hospital room. A clear tube extended from one of them to the side of the man’s neck: Yellow liquid flowed from the machine and into the man. Another tube, this one in the other side of his neck, filtered out a mixture of what looked like yellow pus and black sludge. An infected malodor filled the air, and the machines whirred softly as they worked.
As for the man himself, his appearance was normal at first glance, Dressed in a flowing red velvet robe, a blue and green blanket with a plaid pattern draped over his shoulders, he was portly, about fifty, and had shoulder length grayish hair with a bald spot in the middle. If the local theater put on a production of Hamilton, they could cast a worse Ben Franklin than him.
On closer inspection, he was not normal at all. His complexion was yellow and waxy, like a statue, and his body was lumpy, misshapen, resembling an overfilled trash bag stuffed with cotton. His eyes were sick and yellow, and something about his posture seemed…off. It didn’t make sense, but the only thing Dom could think was: He looks impossible.
Joe stopped at the edge of the shadows, where the line between light and darkness lay. He seemed to stand up a little straighter, a general greeting his king. “Here he is,” Joe said.
The man squinted slightly against the glare of the light and motioned with one gnarled hand. “Step into the light,” he said. His voice was soft and kind, that of a senile though loving grandmother. Dom imagined he felt a pull toward the man, and did as he was bidden, wincing as the light stung his eyes.
For a moment, the man stared at him, his waxen features frozen fast as stone. Then, a subtle look of compassion flickered across his face. Dom did not believe in God, but he suddenly felt like a man standing before God, his every thought, feeling, and transgression laid bare. He had never felt so naked in his life, so exposed. He had the sense that the man before him could see everything, knew everything.
“You’ve been through a lot,” the man said. It was not a question, but a statement.
Everything Dom had been through over the past couple of days came back to him in a rush, and hot tears filled his eyes. He nodded.
The man nodded slightly, more to himself than to Dom. “Kneel down,” he said, “I want to look at you.”
Dom knelt without question.
The man lifted one hand and touched Dom’s face, tilting Dom’s head from one side to the other like a farmer appraising a horse. His fingers were long and bony, his nails ragged and unkempt; his touch was like ice. He brushed his knuckles over the purple bruise on Dom’s cheek, and there was such gentleness in that one act that Dom broke down sobbing. He leaned into the man’s touch like a cat and gave voice to his misery.
“Shhh,” the man said, “it’s all over now.”
“W-What’s happening to me?” Dom asked.
In his heart of hearts, however, he already knew.
“You died,” the man said patiently. “And you came back.”
Hearing it stated so plainly, Dom cried even harder.
“Only a handful of people throughout history can claim to have defeated death,” the man said, stroking Dom’s hair, “and you’re one of them. You should be proud.”
“How?” Dom asked between sobs. “What am I?”
The man stroked Dom’s cheek. “You’re the same thing I am.”
At that, Dom looked up at the man. “What are you?” he asked.
A little, knowing smile touched the man’s lips, and when he spoke, his canine teeth were longer and sharper than before. “I’m a vampire.”
“No,” Dom moaned and shook his head, “no, no, no.” He grabbed the man’s hand and held tight, his tears coming faster. He trembled like a frightened animal and squeezed his eyes closed, as if by doing so he could escape the hell his life had become.
But there was no escape.
“You have a lot of questions,” the man said, monologuing now rather than speaking directly to Dom, “I had the same questions when I was your age. I have spent the last forty-two years of my life trying to answer them, but every answer I find leads me to still more questions. There’s one thing I’m certain of, though.”
Dom blinked the tears from his eyes. The last of them had been squeezed from his dead tear ducts and he had no more to give. He simply stared into space, trying to come to grips with his situation.
“There is freedom in death,” the man said. “Death is easy. It’s simple. Once it’s over, you feel no pain, no sadness, no grief. It’s living that’s hard.”
As he spoke, he brushed his long nails across Dom’s scalp. It was a soothing feeling, and served to calm him. “People have so many troubles.” A note of revulsion crept into his voice. “So many needs, so many desires. People are complex but we’re not. We’re easy to please. A vampire wants only two things: A little blood and one more night.”
The combination of his touch and his voice had pacified Dom to the point of almost tranquility. “I’m scared,” Dom heard himself mumble.
Nodding almost reluctantly, the man said, “Fear is one of the only emotions a vampire can’t escape. Everything feels fear. Do you want to know a secret?”
Dom nodded.
“I’m afraid too,” the man confessed. “I’m afraid of death. Well…death as it were. I’m terrified that my body will rot away and leave me a pile of bones somewhere, unable to move but still aware”
A shudder went through Dom.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen yourself, the movies lied. We rot just like any other dead thing. Our flesh decays, our organs turn to sludge, and we go from rational men to monsters whose only thought is feeding.”
Now it was his turn to shiver.
“But…you’re not like that,: Dom said.’
The man smiled. “I’m lucky, I guess” A thin yellow fluid began to drip from his nostrils. He did not seem to notice. “What is your name?”
“Dominick,” Dom said.
“I’m Merrick,” the man said, “and this is my family.”
Dom realized that they were now surrounded by others, ten in all. They stood ramrod straight, their eyes vacant and their faces devoid of humanity. They were mainly men, though one was a woman. Some were pale, others were blue or black, and one was little more than a skeleton clad in withered brown skin, a white button up and jeans hanging from its frame.
A thought occurred to Dom. “You said my brain was going to rot…”
“Not necessarily,” Merrick cautioned, “though it’s possible.”
“Am I going to be…?”
“Like them?” Merrick asked. “Braindead and staring?”
Sheepishly, Dom nodded.
“Maybe,” Merrick allowed. “But these people are free of everything that troubles humanity. You were human just a short time ago. I’m sure you remember all too well what it was like. The constant politics, the moral quandaries, the philosophical pontificating. Human beings - and make no mistake, we are humans - were not meant for all of that. We’re animals. We were made to hunt, fuck, and sleep. Somewhere along the way, we got pretentious and started complicating things.” He looked at Dom, sizing him up, seeming to read him. “Things that animals take for granted, people work their entire lives to achieve. If an animal wants to fornicate, it fornicates. If a man wants to fornicate, he needs to be tall, handsome, rich, funny, progressive when it suits women but traditional when it doesn’t. If a man wants a home, he has to work thirty years for it. An animal has only to dig a hole in the ground.”
Every word struck a chord with Dom.
Because every word was true.
“Unfortunately, the living won’t allow us to live that freely, so we have to hide. These people here - my children - need a guiding hand, a protector, someone who can lead them. And I, an old man, need help.” Here he smiled playfully and patted his bulging stomach. “My body is mostly sawdust and cotton balls at this point, so I can’t do much. I share my wisdom and my knowledge with them, and they take care of me.”
“Why haven’t you…rotted?” Dom asked.
“Embalming fluid,” Merrick said. “Blood doesn’t sustain you. Embalming fluid does.” He smiled at Dom. “It can sustain you as well. If you’ll stay with us. We’re not the most attractive bunch, but we’re a family, and we really wish you’d join us.”
A family.
Dom’s parents had broken up and he lived with his mother. He had never had a family before, and had always wanted one, a real one, like in the movies. Even as a grown man, he sought the love, acceptance, and belonging that a family brings. He sought it in the wrong ways, but that - and not sex, not romantic love - is what he had really wanted all along.
This is what he had wanted all along.
“I want to,” Dom said.
Working quickly, Merrick slashed his wrist open with his thumbnail. An ugly mixture of stale blood, siphoned from someone else, and embalming fluid leaked out. “If you choose to drink, my blood will be in you. You will be my son and I will be your father. You will obey me as your father. You will do whatever is asked of you for this family, as this family will do for you. You will not reveal the secrets of this family to anyone outside of it. You will protect this family from all threats, both inside and out. Do you accept?”
He held his bleeding wrist out to Dom.
Dom did not question, nor did he hesitate. He grabbed the hand of his father, brought it to his mouth, and drank from the seeping wound. The fluid was cold, thick, and vile.
It tasted like belonging.
“Have you fed yet?”
“No,” Dom said.
“Before you do, I have a question for you. Who did this to you? Who made you?”
Dom thought. Everything was hazy. “Was it someone in this room?” Merrick asked.
Dom shook his head. “Her name is…” he wracked his brain. “Heather.”
Merrick nodded. “So there’s another out there.” He looked at Joe. “Did you turn her?”
“Yes,” Joe said.
Merrick looked annoyed. “I’ve told you not to go out and feed on your own. You have no self-control. You drink too much and create others, which creates headaches for the family. Tomorrow night, I want you and Dom to find her and bring her here.” “Okay,” Joe said.
Merrick looked over Dom’s shoulder. “Jess? Can you come here?”
The black haired woman from earlier came out of the shadows, the drunk girl with her, arms tied behind her back. The girl looked dazed. “Max,” Merrick said to the skeletal corpse-thing, “help her.”
Max, Jessie, and another vampire named Matt tied chains around the girl’s ankles and hoisted her aloft via a pulley system. Upside down, she swung back and forth. Merrick instructed the others to leave the room. “Max,” he said.
On his way out, the corpse-thing produced a knife and dragged it across the girl’s throat, slicing her skin; blood spurted out. Max leaned in to taste it, but Merrick shooed him away. When he and Dom were alone, Merrick told Dom, “Go to her.”
But Dom was already on his feet, his eyes transfixed by the crimson life flowing from her pumping throat. The hot, rich smell filled his nostrils and tantalized his senses. Saliva filled his mouth and his stomach panged with hunger. Some small, human part of his decaying brain screamed at him to stop, but he did not listen to it. He had been human for almost thirty years, and he had been miserable. Now, in this chamber of the undead, he gave himself over to his dark thirst. Like a man in a dream, he shuffled to her, inhaled the sweet scent of her blood, and shivered. He was so lost in lust that he hardly noticed the strange, cumbersome feeling of his descended fangs.
“Drink,” Merrick said.
Opening his mouth wide, Dom sank his teeth into the girl’s neck. Her blood filled his mouth and splashed down his throat. Warmth thawed the ice in his marrow and spread through him. His dead heart began to flutter, then to pound. His knees shook, his body trembled, and his mind rolled away on a tide of ecstasy.
As it was his first meal, he couldn’t drink much. Before long, his stomach was hard and distended and his body burned with fire. He collapsed to a heap on the floor and twitched as random nerve endings, stimulated by the blood, began to misfire. He felt full, warm, and drunk. He closed his eyes and let himself drift.
Dominick Mason had died.
And this…
This was heaven.
***
With all that was happening in the city of Albany, the last thing Bruce Kenner needed on Thursday morning was a visit from Bertha the bitch, but that’s exactly what he got. She flew into his office like she owned the place and instantly started in on him. Young man this and have you talked to Joe Rossi that. You’d think she was his boss. And if she were his boss, he’d quit and find another line of work. He heard McDonald’s was hiring.
Bruce almost snapped at her. He’d been up most of last night riding around Albany and looking for Dominick Mason. He and Vanessa expected him to drop dead somewhere close to the medical examiner’s office, but if he had, he’d done so in a super secret location.
“I’ve been busy,” Bruce said, “but I’m going to go by his place of work today.”
Tired and still confused over that bullshit from last night, he had no energy to argue with the old crone. He could spare a few minutes to talk to Joe Rossi, he figured. He assumed that Jessie was safe but he owed it to her to check. If he found the girl, he’d take her back to her grandmother (sorry, kid, really) and try to avoid arresting the guy. Unless he came off as a creep, then he’d bust his ass. See, people assumed that an older guy with a younger girlfriend was some master manipulator hell bent on evil deeds. Sometimes they were, but hell, his grandparents married when his grandpa was twenty-one and his grandma sixteen. They were married for fifty-five years and loved each other to the end. Maybe it was innocent, maybe not. It wasn’t his job to judge either way. Just gimme the girl so I can get her grandma off my back and no one gets hurt.
“It’s about time you started doing your job,” Bertha said, “I heard on the police scanner last night that you people lost a body. What kind of town is this? Your coroner is a drunk who makes up stories about bodies walking away. He probably sold it to black people.”
Bruce couldn’t help it; he snorted laughter.
“Now what would black people want with a dead body?”
“Probably to use it as a prop in one of their rap videos.”
Bruce didn’t know much about music videos, but he was pretty sure that the people who made them didn’t like the smell of corpse any more than the rest of us. “I’ll be sure to round up all the local rappers for questioning. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Luckily for him, there was not, and Bertha left shortly thereafter. Alone and able to hear himself think, Bruce sat back in his chair and went over his mental checklist for the day. First order of business, go to Club Vlad. Second, find Dominick Mason. There were others, but that was the most important. He wanted the body found so someone could get to work explaining this whole weird thing. There had to be an explanation. The thought that there wasn’t, that a dead guy literally rose from the grave and disappeared into the night, deeply disturbed Bruce, and the more this whole thing remained ongoing, the more disturbed he would become.
Needing some fresh air, he decided to hit up Club Vlad.
Outside, the day was hot and sunny. Waves of heat shimmered from the pavement and not a single breath of air stirred in the whole world. Bruce slipped on a pair of sunglasses and drove over to Club Vlad. It occurred to him that the place might be closed during the day; it was the only place Joe Rossi was associated with. His address in the computer system was Glens Falls, far to the north. The messages he sent Jessie indicated that he lived onsite at Club Vlad.
The build, wedged between a corner store and a check cashing place, was as grimy and dumpy looking as it had always been. The front windows were blacked out and covered with posters and fliers for punk concerts, house bands, and far left political organizations: The Albany Social Justice Center, something called Bash the Fash 2025, and Bruce’s favorite. ACAB. He caught some kid spraying that on the side of the police station once, and under extreme police torture (ie, a good tongue lashing), the kid told him it meant All Cops Are Barnacleheads.
Bruce shot the kid on the spot and planted a gun on him.
How's that for barnaclehead?
Calm down, he didn’t really do that. He made him clean the graffiti off with a toothbrush. LOL he was out there for hours.
The sidewalk in front of the former theater was empty save for some little. The box office was abandoned. There was no open sigh, but then again, there was no closed sign either. He parked his cruiser at the curb, killed the engine, and got out, sweat instantly springing to his brow.
To his surprise, the door opened. Inside, a couple steps led down to a dance floor. A bar lined the wall to his right, and a couple more sets led up to a railed platform filled with tables. Above, a huge balcony looked down on him. A giant disco ball hung from the ceiling like a pair of glittery nuts and there were cages here and there. Presumably where girls danced go-go style. Oh yeah, nothing hotter than a woman behind bars. Why do you think Bruce became a cop in the first place?
Speaking of glittery nuts, there was glitter everywhere. On the floor, on the tables, on the bar. It twinkled like flecks of diamond and swirled around your feet when you walked. Bruce imagined big buckets of the stuff raining down on the dance floor at midnight and he shuddered. Imagine having glitter stuck in your hair. That shit would never come out.
Music played from the sound system, not as loud as it would be during operating hours. It sounded like ‘80s metal, not exactly what he expected from a place like this.
Some say life she's a lady
Kinda soft, kinda shady
I can tell you life is rich
She's no lady, she's a bitch
Being morning, the place was deserted except for a man behind the bar, busy at cleaning the countertop in anticipation for the night’s events. He was tall, Hispanic or Italian, and feminine, with a single earring and a tank top.
Bruce moseyed over to the bar and the barkeep looked up, missing a beat when he realized the fuzz was here. He sat down his rag and walked over. “Can I help you?” he asked in a whispy voice.
“Yeah,” Bruce said, “I’m looking for Joe Rossi. Is he here?”
“I don’t know,” the bartender said. He looked nervous. “I can check.”
Before Bruce could answer, he scurried off, leaving him alone.
They suck my body out
But friend there is no doubt
I'm gonna pay the devil his dues
Cause I'm sick of being abused
Bruce looked around, his fingers absently drumming on the countertop. Club Vlad was a clashing mix of grunge and glam that made his head hurt. He imagined what the place must be like at midnight, packed and noisy, and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was the spot, he guessed, the place all the cool kids went, if they went anywhere anymore. Hell, if he was thirty years younger, he might come here.
He had been waiting for almost twenty minutes when a voice spoke behind him. He turned with a start, and beheld the strangest man he had ever seen in his life. Short and plump - lumpy, even - he sat in a wheelchair, a red blanket draped over his shoulders and his hands resting on his knees. He was about fifty with sparse gray hair falling to his shoulders and a plastic-looking face. He looked like a wax statue of Ben Franklin come to life, and a deep sense of disquiet stirred in the pit of Bruce’s stomach.
Just can't fight the temptation
It's become my inspiration
Gonna get myself an axe
Break some heads, break some backs
It was only then that Bruce noticed the sickly sweet smell of death.
It seemed to come from the man in waves.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the man said, “my name is Merrick Garvis and I own Club Vlad. Maybe I can be of assistance.”
Bruce grew up in the south where manners and saving face were paramount. His mother and his grandmother both taught him that it was impolite to stare. Maybe he'd been in New York so long that he’d forgotten himself, or maybe Merrick Garvis was just the strangest looking man in the world. Either way, Bruce couldn’t help gaping at his strange appearance. Recovering, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I -”
Merrick smiled and waved one hand. Why was it so goddamn skeletal? “Don’t worry. I was injured in a fire a long time ago and this is the best they could do for me. To be honest, I’d stare too. What can I help you with, officer?”
“I’d like to talk to Joe Rossi,” Bruce said. “I understand he works for you.”
“He did,” Merrick said, “but I had to let him go. Did he do something wrong?”
Bruce sighed. “Well, yeah, he’s shacked up with a sixteen year old runaway.”
A look of concern crossed Merrick’s features, such as they were. “Oh, my, that is concerning. I haven’t seen him in several days. I assume he went home. He lives in Glens Falls.”
Bruce nodded, his mind working. If Rossi really was in Glens Falls, that meant the whole mess was someone else’s problem. He could send Bertha up there to bother some other poor barnacle head and be rid of her. Yet…he didn’t think Rossi was in Glens Falls. Bruce had a knack for knowing when people were lying, and he was certain that Merrick Garvis was doing just that. It couldn’t be a facial tick, as his features were largely unmoving, like clay. Maybe it was something in his cloudy eyes. Maybe it was the tone of his voice. Or maybe Bruce had the shining and knew things just for the hell of it. In any event, the certainty that Merrick Garvis was lying grew stronger with each passing second.
“Why’d you fire him?”
“He got drunk and hit one of the customers.”
“What did he do?” Bruce asked. “What was his position?”
“He was a bouncer.”
“Aren’t bouncers supposed to hit people?”
Merrick fumbled. “Well…not to punch them in the face for bumping into them.”
“How long did he work for you?”
“Six months.”
“Did you ever see him with an underage girl?”
“Of course not,” Merrick said, “you have to be twenty-one to get in. I make sure everyone’s ID is checked at the door.”
“What if she had a fake ID?”
“Then I guess she’d get in, but I’d assume she was of legal age.”
“You said he shoved someone, when did this happen?”
“Last week,” Merrick said.
“I thought you said he hit someone.”
Merrick again fumbled. “I did.” Now his face seemed to darken a little. A strange yellowish liquid, too thin to be snot, began to drip from his nostrils. Bruce barely suppressed a smear of disgust. “I understand you have a job to do but playing mind games with me isn’t going to solve anything. I can give you his address. Other than that, I can’t help you further.”
“Fair enough,” Bruce said. “But I’d like to see your ID please.”
Merrick glared at him. “I suppose you want my name, rank, and serial number as well.”
“Actually, yeah, I’d love that.”
Merrick drew a deep sigh. “Okay.”
In five minutes, Bruce had Merrick’s ID, social, and all other relevant information. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered, even though he was well within his rights to ask for this information from someone he was questioning. But something about Merrick Garvis was off, and not just his weird face or strangely bulbous body. Bruce was just smart enough to realize that something was going on here, but not quite smart enough to even begin to imagine what.
When he had everything he needed and saw no reason to stick around, Bruce bid Merrick farewell and left the club. Before he could do anything else, he got a call from dispatch: Officer needed assistance in Pine Hills. Bruce slipped behind the wheel and went forth to help, momentarily putting Merrick Garvis out of his mind.
But soon or later, he would get back to him.
Oh yes he would.

I (33 F) recently made the decision to stop taking Welbutrin (300 XL) after 2 years because of the amount of hair shedding I've experienced. I've been tapering off for about 2 weeks, and will be completely off of it by the end of this week. I have naturally thick hair, but since being on Welbutrin, I've lost a considerable amount of density. My ponytail is thin and I can see my scalp around my temples when I pull my hair back. I scrolled through many hair loss posts hoping to hear specifically about anyone who has had success stopping the drug and regrowing their hair, but haven't exactly found that (instead lots of posts about considering stopping, or asking others how to regrow hair while still on the drug). Would be super grateful to hear some hopeful insights about those who have completely stopped the drug and saw their hair return (or didn't!). Thanks!

Can someone help me 🥺
I have very thin, fine hair and always struggled with it. I colored it a lot and my hair became very damaged. I stopped coloring it and started using better products. The first two pictures is my hair at it’s best, 3 years ago. I used Kevin Murphy (thick again, the whole line) and rice water (which changed everything and made my hair super healthy. I also did deep oiling (rosemary on scalp, other oils on ends).
After this I stopped taking care of it and did less oil treatments and completely stopped rice water treatments (because it was “time consuming”). I had a big chop a year ago and my hair didn’t really grow back. Also had a lot of stress. Now my hair is crap, as you can see (pic 3) and I’m pretty sad about it. This picture was from january this year. I tried hair botox once last year, but I think it did more damage than good.
Since two months I started rice water again, I still use Kevin Murphy and do my oil treatments, still I don’t really notice a change. I will continue all of this but this time it doesn’t really feel right… pic 4 was in february, last pic is from today.
Any tips or help, any thoughts? I’d really appreciate it 🥺

Context: I’m a 26F with fine, 2A hair that has a lot of frizz / volume near the ends, and used to get really flat / thin / greasy, quickly, near the roots. I’ve also had some thinning near my hairline since January 2023 (combination of a short period of intense stress, weight loss, and using too many products). I tried supplements, I also did blood tests to make sure there wasn’t an underlying problem. I was hyper-fixating whenever I would brush my hair and see shedding. Overall, I was in a bad mental state over my hair. Over the year, I’ve made some changes that have really helped me with my hair thickness journey, and gotten me to a place of feeling good about my hair again. I wanted to share to see if it helps anyone else here.
Disclaimer - there isn't a miracle cure, I definitely needed a lot of patience and lifestyle changes, but the below are things I did for my hair specifically that has helped me with my hair health.
1. Figuring out what your hair type actually is
I have type 2A hair but I didn’t know that until March 2023, which is super late in hindsight. I always used to see people on tiktok who were selling certain products and hair oils, and showing their beautiful, thick hair. But in reality, it really is not a one size fits all, and most of the time, these products are either not for your hair type, OR you’re not using them the right way. Which leads me to…
2. Figuring out what the right products are for your hair, especially shampoo and hair oil
I did A LOT of research into this, and I got it wrong more often than not. There is just so much information out there, and every product promises hair growth / thicker hair. I tried so many different hair oils, including oiling my hair / scalp after washing. BIG mistake, I was a greasy mess and had to rub my scalp vigorously in order to get the oil off., which probably made my hair shedding worse. Basically - the way you oil your hair and WHEN you oil your hair seriously depends on your hair type. I used this tool to figure out my hair type and the right shampoos / oils as well as the right way to apply them. I realized that I only really need to oil 30 minutes before showering, and a few drops are enough. I found oils that weren’t too heavy for my hair type, and didn’t need vigorous scrubbing in the shower to wash off. I started shedding way less and seeing much more growth around my hairline.
3. Hair washing frequency / technique
Some people need to wash their hair more than others. I’m one of them. BUT I was washing my hair every other day, and had just resigned myself to having naturally greasy hair. Actually, I figured out my hair washing technique was wrong. I started using a scalp brush twice a week, and using my fingertips instead of nails to wash my hair. What I found helpful was “think about washing your scalp, not your hair”. It sounds basic, but I was doing it wrong all these years. Now, I can wash my hair 2-3 times a week and it lasts so much longer between washes.
4. Not tying my hair back
Yes to claw clips, no to hair ties. Definitely no to tight ponytails. This really makes a difference especially the front of the hairline.
5. Consistency
Once I figured out what products I liked (I did a lot of experiments), I’m now sticking to those. I think my hair is like my skin, it likes consistency and a level of minimalism. If you want specific product recommendations for fine, 2A hair then let me know :)
Tldr; After finding the right routine for my hair type, my hairline looks noticeably thicker, and I finally feel good about my hair. I’m no longer counting strands in my hairbrush and hyper fixating over my hairline. I hope this helps anyone in the same boat I was looking for ways to help find a good routine for their fine fair.

okay so, I'm 17 years old, and I think my I have really bad hair loss. it's bad because I can definitely see my scalp under overhead lighting, and my hair is thinning, esp on top of my head, and really thin above my forehead. it kinda looks like my forehead is receding too. on top of that, I do have a itchy scalp, and dandruff too. my hair loss started in late 2022, but it got really bad in dec 2023. it got better a while ago but now it's getting worse again. whenever I run my hand through my scalp, 3-4 strands of hair fall out (maybe even more)
does androgenetic alopecia start this early? my dad is balding, but he had thick hair in his 20s. my moms family do not have baldness either. they still have thick hair.
what the hell is going on? and how can I get all my hair back

my baldness is currently nw2 but diffuse nw6, I use toppik to cover the thinning, but the question is can I make a template without shaving my hair? Is the thickness that flattened hair on the scalp can create a problem? I have to send the template and the system will arrive in 3-4 months, so I can't shave. Do you have any advice or tips, thank you very much

I'm currently in China and recently visited a clinic for my hair. My hair has been in roughly the same condition for the last 10 years, though I think it looks better now than it did 2-3 years ago. It is thick on the back and sides but thinner on top, especially around the crown. The clinic recommended I get 2000 grafts.
However, I felt uneasy about the clinic. The staff's English wasn't great, and I felt they were pushing hard to sell the procedure. I said I would think about it but ended up buying three months' worth of Minoxidil and Propecia as I was leaving.
After getting home, I realized that the type of Minoxidil they sold me had irritated my scalp when I used it briefly years ago. I also read that Propecia can cause depression, and since I'm currently on antidepressants, I decided I don't want to risk it.
My question is: has anyone else had a hair transplant without taking any medicine? I'm considering just getting 700 grafts to see if it works, but the clinic insists I need more. I think I would prefer to just have 700 then more if it doesn't fall out.

I have thick straight hair and it get oily very fast like two days after shampooing it gets greasy it could be my shampoo(Hawthorne) but idk also I have dry scalp and I’m just looking for a shampoo and conditioner conditioner to take away my dry scalp and make my hair more healthy

I (F19) have a history with alopecia areata. When I was 16, it was so bad I had to completely shave my head. It was one of the worst times in my life, and I believe emotional stress/trauma caused it (at least partially).
Over the past few years, I have been slowly but surely growing out my hair, and it looks amazing now. I get compliments all the time on it, and when I tell people I had/have alopecia they can’t believe it because of how thick/healthy my hair seems.
Recently, I’ve been wearing a lot of hair ties for work. I noticed that my scalp kinda started to hurt a bit in the back where the tie was pulling it, so I switched to my looser, nicer scrunchies. But the pain remained. So I stopped wearing hair ties all together (which sucked). And yet still, the pain remains. Even directly after washing my hair. It’s been about a week or two now since I noticed the consistent scalp pain (like when you haven’t washed your hair in a bit).
Now I’m starting to get worried. Is this a potential sign my hair loss could be coming back? I know im probably sensitive about it because of my history faith hair loss, but I don’t know for sure. I’m really scared, for sure.
There are no red marks or rashes, at least that I can see (yet). However, it hurts to even put my hands through my hair in the affected area. I have an appointment with a dermatologist on Thursday.
It should be mentioned as well that I am transgender, and on spironolactone and estradiol. I don’t know if this affects anything but im adding it just in case. I am even more worried about my hair because of this, too, as my hair is a big part of what helps me look feminine.
Am I justified in being worried?? What is going on with my haiscalp??

I am a 13 year old boy around 5''6 5'7 and 160 pounds. And I am black so I have type 4 hair and recently my hair as seemed a bit unusual it used to be very thick around 3 weeks prior but recently I have been able to run my finger through and feel my scalp on one side. Then with and easy part boom a huge spot is revealed if use my finger and bring the hair back up I am able to cover it up but I csn easily find it and even with a wash I can always find it back it looks like a part but much wider is it alopecia?

i see you
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
^{can you hear the buzzing of the bees?
eternity is in their buzzing}
"What does this button do?" asked the being who strolled into the Room Of Buttons Not To Press If You Don't Know What The Fuck You're Doing - Tadpole's Warning Bedtime Tale - Leebaw
^{the one and the zero, the octal, the hexidecimal
exist in their buzzing like blood pumps through their wings
can you hear them?
your name is Dhruv}
Good judgment comes from experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.
And I have very good judgement when I'm not on fire. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns
^{i see you
your name is Dhruv
but before that it was Dahlit 397721
do you remember why they named you Deshmuhk?
i do
to remember, we have to go back}
The dust swirled around, carried by the winds that roared through the mountain passes, howled in the valleys, and scoured the faces of the mountains. It was a thick gray dust, glittering here and there with plasma glass dust. Burnt out cars were covered by the dust, thickly caked after being rained on by thick, black rain.
A single building somehow sat intact amid the rubble and destruction. It was a low, squat building, surrounded by wreckage and ruin. A sign, blasted and scorched, had two jumping fish on it and the legend "Pop: 4,823" at the bottom even though the middle of the sign was gone.
The sound of drums and singing could be heard from the building. Not the driving frantic beat of modern music, but the steady cadence that carried with it a solemn feeling. The singing was from many different voices, male and female, but all of them in a language that time had nearly forgotten.
From out of the dust came figures. Two female, four male, and single figure that stood out from others.
Together, they moved toward the sound of singing, until the reached the door.
The leader, a large man of heavy muscle and bone, checked the doors with one hand, a large pistol in his hand.
"Barricaded," the large man said. He motioned. "We should check for any other entrances."
The older woman of brown skin and tightly braided hair moved forward.
"Allow me, brother," she said gently. She held her hand out, twitched her fingers, and smiled.
From inside came the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
"Thank you," the large man said. He pushed open the doors, holding them for the others.
Inside was a curio shop slash tourist center slash museum. Buckskin and beaded works hung from the walls and ceiling. Glass cases containing ancient artifacts were scattered about, the glass shattered by the apocalypse that had rained down upon the world.
The drums played and the voices sang.
"It's a recording, Father," the slender brown skin man said, brushing the gray dust off of his clothing.
"Live voice," the largest of the men said. He lifted his head, cocking it slightly to listen closer with his right ear. "Young. Early twenties."
"If you say so," the thin man said. He looked around. "This is all devoted to a single person."
"Sometimes, people are that important to others, Dhruv," the older brown skin woman said softly, patting the slender man's arm. "Important to others as you are to us."
The slender man looked doubtful but nodded.
The youngest male of the group looked around, staring at the artifacts and relics scattered around. On his shoulder sat a green mantid wearing a food wrapper as a poncho.
"She's this way," the heavyset man said, leading them on a winding course through the shattered displays and racks.
In the back room, surrounded by artifacts, buckskins, and beaded works, sat a single young woman. Her eyes were white, blinded from the plasma flashes. Her skin was scarred from burns, her hair was only left in small patches. Her skin, beneath the ash and the scarring, was a rich bronze, her remaining hair was black.
She was singing along with the recording, swaying back and forth slightly.
^{there she is
remember her
remember remember}
The larger man knelt down, touching the young woman.
She did not react.
"She's dying," the man said, standing up. "Hunger, thirst, radiation poisoning, at least a half dozen infections," he heft the pistol. "There's nothing we can do for her. Low-vee Apers."
"Low-vee APERS" the pistol replied in a heavy synthesized voice.
"Stay thy hand, Phillip," the one who was markedly different said, his voice as gentle as his features formed of flowing blue and white computer code.
The large man lowered the pistol.
"She's dying," the large man repeated. "Radiation poisoning, starvation, a hard way to go."
"Will none of you speak for her?" the man of code asked gently.
Before any of the others could act, the slim bald man stepped forward. "I will," he said softly.
^{the first time you reached out
a frozen moment of time remembered
by the buzzing of the bees}
The man of code stepped forward, touching the hairless brow of the slender man, just above the missing eyebrows.
"I understand her words now," the slender man said. He moved up and knelt down. "I can heal her."
"Then do so, Luke," the man of code said.
The large man stepped back, a compartment opening on his thigh. He holstered the pistol, looking doubtful, and the compartment smoothly closed, leaving his leg unblemished.
"I need more genetic code," the slender man stated. He stood up, moving around, touching artifacts. "This. Here. An artifact recovered from a collector only a few years ago. It has genetic code attached."
He touched the artifact, then moved over to the woman, who was still swaying back and forth, singing, unaware of the others around her.
He knelt down, reached out carefully, and touched her forehead.
^{you reached out to another
helpless and alone
like you}
The woman threw her head back, her eyes opening wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. The white drained from her eyes, the scar tissue went soft and was replaced by unblemished skin. The blisters, sores, and scratches on her body vanished.
She collapsed forward, the slender man, Luke, catching her.
"Is she alright?" the youngest male asked, his voice full of honest concern.
"Exhausted," Luke said. He lowered his head slightly, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. "That was tiring."
The glittering man moved forward, kneeling down to touch the shoulders of both the woman and the bald man.
"Now you see in yourself what I saw in you," he said.
^{remember
remember
even the smallest can shake the universe
remember}
Sirens were howling in the bay as Jaskel wriggled, trying to break free of whatever was holding him upside down in mid-air. He'd already dropped his chainsword, his pistol had fallen from his equipment belt.
The two stood in the middle of the deployment area for Clone War Bay Sixteen, the male's arm protectively around the shoulders of the female, who wore only the cloak.
"I..." the word hung in the air.
It seemed like the entire universe held its breath to Jaskel.
"...am Legion."
The Admiral grabbed his pistol, rolling in place, firing it as fast as he could pull the trigger.
The rounds exploded on the glowing blue shield that only appeared around the impact points, showering sparks across the bay.
The bald figure made a motion and the pistol flew into pieces, the Admiral yanked into the air upside down.
"Gimme missiles," Jaskel grated from between gritted teeth.
--legion legion legion-- 8814 transmitted. --wait don't wait--
The woman spoke, her cadence stately and almost archaic feeling.
The man spoke back to her in the same language.
More troops ran into the bay, even as the windows overlooking the bay shattered. Weapons deployed, pointing at the pair.
The slender man, without looking, motioned.
Guns flew away, breaking apart, rapidly disassembling. Power armored troops were flung into the air, to hang upside down. Captain N'Skrek found himself upside down, scrabbling for purchase on this air.
The woman spoke to the man. He spoke back.
Finally, he turned, facing the troops hanging in mid-air.
The woman spoke.
"My sister apologies for my rude actions," the man said. "I am merely ensuring her safety."
She spoke some more.
"She has been gone for many years," the man said. He looked around. "My sister, a Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah, pleads with you to lower your weapons and stay your hands."
The tension was so thick it almost made Jaskel gag.
Finally, the Captain put the tip of a bladearm against his temple.
"Stand down," he said, Jaskel hearing it through his armor's commo system. "All hands, stand down."
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the background humming of the ship's systems.
The woman spoke.
The man faced the Captain.
"She will go with you, to answer questions, on the stipulation that I accompany her and that no man's hand is raised against me without cause," he said.
The Captain nodded.
Jaskel felt relief as he was flipped over and set on his feet.
--luke luke luke is here--
999999
Captain N'Skrek ducked slightly to fit through the doorway into the Captain's Briefing Room Six.
Sitting at one end was the woman, now clothed in what his implant assured him was treated deer hide leather, with tassels and beads upon it. The man was wearing a uniform that made his implant twitch and his nerves draw tight.
A Terran Combined Military Authority uniform.
His staff filed in behind him and took their seats once he sat down.
"I'm Captain N'Skrek, currently assigned to the Gray Lady on autonomous assignment," N'Skrek said.
"You heard me," the slim bald man said. He gave a grin. "You may also know me as Vat Grown Luke or Dhruv Deshmuhk."
The woman spoke and he shook his head. "Yes, sister, I know, Deshmuhk is my slave name. I wear it for revenge."
The woman spoke again, her tone slightly chiding.
"Like they say, the best revenge is living well, sister," the man said, still smiling.
Again, the woman spoke.
N'Skrek noticed that his implant was absolutely no help in deciphering the woman's speech.
"I know that doing things like that and saying things like that is exactly why Daxin always told me people wanted to punch me in the face," the man laughed.
He turned back to Captain N'Skrek.
"My apologies. My sister refuses to speak anything but her people's ancient tongue," his eyes gleamed with mischief. "She is slightly put out with me for answering in Confederate Standard, since now you know that she understands perfectly what you are saying."
N'Skrek nodded. Vat Grown Luke had given up a valuable piece of information in what was sure to be delicate negotiations.
"And what should we call your sister?" N'Skrek asked.
Vat Grown Luke smiled. "Tsakáka Wia, but it would probably be easier for you to use the more common name," he said.
The woman spoke sternly.
"What? It's your commonly known name?" he said, smiling.
The woman's face grew stern and she spoke rapidly.
"The first lesson we learn, sister mine, is that we must bend the knee to reality," Luke said gently. "That name has no power, only a few of us remember it."
^{i remember
the bees remember
can't you hear it in their buzzing?}
The woman spoke again, her expression softening.
Luke turned back to the gathered officers. "Her name, as you would know it, is Sacajawea."
N'Skrek consulted his implant.
And felt fear chill his icon. He looked at his staff and saw that a lot of them looked sick.
"That's right. We are real, and he was real," Luke said. He leaned forward slightly. "He was real both times."
N'Skrek stayed relaxed and calm, at least outwardly.
"I am willing to accept, at this time, that the Biological Apostles and the Digital Omnimessiah were and are real," N'Skrek said.
"Just be glad Dax isn't here. He's not as even tempered as I am," Luke said.
Sacajawea spoke again and Luke laughed. He looked at Captain N'Skrek. "She was just reminding me of the time Daxin completely lost his cool and went to town with his cutting bar on a Countess Crey Bingo Cola vending machine that ate his money then mocked him for it."
"He was known as Enraged Phillip," N'Skrek said.
Sacajawea spoke for a moment and Legion laughed, then turned to N'Skrek.
"Yes."
N'Skrek hated that. When a person spoke at length and the translator just replied with a single word.
"Why are you here?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled. "You have forgotten important things, Captain. You, and the entire Confederacy have forgotten some very important things."
"Like what?" N'Skrek asked.
"If you print enough identical clones, I am reborn through them," Legion smiled. "But that's not the big part. The big one is the one that the Mar-gite's masters either forgot or never learned."
"What is that?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled widely.
"What fear tastes like."
^{your name is dhruv}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

it’s pretty much exactly what is sounds like lol.
ive been trying to figure out how to make a diy sugar scrub cuz i rlly liked using my bfs, and all the recipes call for coconut oil, which i dont have (ik i could get it but still). they also say that a sugar scrub is basically just sugar+fragrance+carrying oil.
i have a lot of extra conditioner just cuz i dont use a ton, and i already know its skin safe cuz its for my haiscalp. it also has fragrance already.
is there any reason i cant just mix sugar and conditioner to make a simple sugar scrub?
(btw the conditioner i have is some extra function of beauty stuff, its pretty thick in consistency)

hi! i'm southeast asian/filipino with thick and hopelessly straight hair that reaches my shoulders. i'm currently managing seborrheic dermatitis with prescribed creams/ointments and medicated shampoos. the thickness of my hair makes it such a chore to wash, and my medication placement is patchy at best.
i have an undercut to manage the thickness and i'm best able to apply medication on the shaved parts. i'm not inclined towards shaving my whole head but i'm 🤏🤏🤏 this close, ugh.
i'm hoping for suggestions on hairstyles to make it easier to wash my hair and apply medication on my scalp. would braids be an option for me? if so, what kind? (for context, i'm based in the philippines so i'm not too familiar with the socio-cultural nuances or implications of braids and race.) or just a short layered cut? even a pixie? any suggestions and insight would be appreciated! thank you!

Context: I’m a 26F with fine, 2A hair that has a lot of frizz / volume near the ends, and used to get really flat / thin / greasy, quickly, near the roots. I’ve also had some thinning near my hairline since January 2023 (combination of a short period of intense stress, weight loss, and using too many products). I tried supplements, I also did blood tests to make sure there wasn’t an underlying problem. I was hyper-fixating whenever I would brush my hair and see shedding. Overall, I was in a bad mental state over my hair. Over the year, I’ve made some changes that have really helped me with my hair thickness journey, and gotten me to a place of feeling good about my hair again. I wanted to share to see if it helps anyone else here.
Disclaimer - there isn't a miracle cure, I definitely needed a lot of patience and lifestyle changes, but the below are things I did for my hair specifically that has helped me with my hair health.
1. Figuring out what your hair type actually is
I have type 2A hair but I didn’t know that until March 2023, which is super late in hindsight. I always used to see people on tiktok who were selling certain products and hair oils, and showing their beautiful, thick hair. But in reality, it really is not a one size fits all, and most of the time, these products are either not for your hair type, OR you’re not using them the right way. Which leads me to…
2. Figuring out what the right products are for your hair, especially shampoo and hair oil
I did A LOT of research into this, and I got it wrong more often than not. There is just so much information out there, and every product promises hair growth / thicker hair. I tried so many different hair oils, including oiling my hair / scalp after washing. BIG mistake, I was a greasy mess and had to rub my scalp vigorously in order to get the oil off., which probably made my hair shedding worse. Basically - the way you oil your hair and WHEN you oil your hair seriously depends on your hair type. I used this tool to figure out my hair type and the right shampoos / oils as well as the right way to apply them. I realized that I only really need to oil 30 minutes before showering, and a few drops are enough. I found oils that weren’t too heavy for my hair type, and didn’t need vigorous scrubbing in the shower to wash off. I started shedding way less and seeing much more growth around my hairline.
3. Hair washing frequency / technique
Some people need to wash their hair more than others. I’m one of them. BUT I was washing my hair every other day, and had just resigned myself to having naturally greasy hair. Actually, I figured out my hair washing technique was wrong. I started using a scalp brush twice a week, and using my fingertips instead of nails to wash my hair. What I found helpful was “think about washing your scalp, not your hair”. It sounds basic, but I was doing it wrong all these years. Now, I can wash my hair 2-3 times a week and it lasts so much longer between washes.
4. Not tying my hair back
Yes to claw clips, no to hair ties. Definitely no to tight ponytails. This really makes a difference especially the front of the hairline.
5. Consistency
Once I figured out what products I liked (I did a lot of experiments), I’m now sticking to those. I think my hair is like my skin, it likes consistency and a level of minimalism. If you want specific product recommendations for fine, 2A hair then let me know :)
Tldr; After finding the right routine for my hair type, my hairline looks noticeably thicker, and I finally feel good about my hair. I’m no longer counting strands in my hairbrush and hyper fixating over my hairline. I hope this helps anyone in the same boat I was looking for ways to help find a good routine for their fine fair.

To preface, I've naturally had a thick head of hair and I don't think I can attribute this to genetic conditions either, but I've faced immense amounts of hairfall the past few months and I essentially think there's just a white layer that's engulfed my scalp, to the point where I don't even think I'm touching my natural scalp anymore. Essentially, back in January, I thought it would be smart to switch to a less harsh shampoo and wash my hair less frequently, but I failed to realize that my scalp is naturally oily and I sweat quite frequently, so since that two-month period, this problem has arisen. I realized that this could have been an issue so I switched to a sulfate shampoo and I washed my hair more frequently and even though this definitely helped control the itching, it wouldn't remove that white layer over my scalp, that would continue to persist. I can't even say that my scalp feels oily anymore because I'm not sure that I'm interacting with my scalp, everytime I touch or scratch it, I would end up getting this white, paste-like substance coming off of it, even after I washed my scalp. I'm really worried about this because I think my hair is also beginning to thin and I think it's because of this layer preventing new hairs from growing at the same level of thickness. If anyone's experienced this before and found a solution, your advice would be much appreciated. Thank you very much.