I don't think Ms. Spears is having a nervous breakdown.
I think she just got tired of her hair and wanted to be bald.
I think she looks pretty good.
It's always nice to know that you have a nice looking head underneath your hair.
For years I dreaded going bald. I documented my hair line and wasted so much time worrying about it as it receded.
For me, what ended up happening was this: I had mastered the “look great from the front” appearance, the me I saw in the mirror every day. I had my hair at a nice length, producted into a stupor. A happy hair stupor. Then I saw the picture. The picture that changed everything. I don't have a copy of it, but it was a pic of me onstage in a concert production of “Candide.” My head was to the back of the cam in an ensemble scene and there was my bald spot. It might as well have had a neon arrow pointing to it. It did to me.
My friend John Michael decided to give me a makeover. I had recently ended a five year relationship and needed to burst onto the scene with a new look. He didn't exactly shave my head, but it was close. I was shocked with I first saw it. I wasn't too sure. (Or should I say shear?) I never really like things to be done halfway.
One weekend in New York, I decided to give myself a touch up. With my newly acquired clippers, I began shaving at what I thought was the correct setting. When I pulled out a pocket mirror to monitor what I was doing, I gasped. It did not look good. It looked like Helga the scary Nazi stylist had done her job. (Note: There is no such person, but I wanted to say I looked like a concentration camp victim without actually saying it, but there now I've said it. I do not mean to offend anyone.)
So, what was I to do? But to finish the job and there with a one setting instead of two, I became the new me. And I have been that way ever since.
I don't miss my hair so much as I miss some of the hair care products. I miss Aveda Brilliance because I like the way it smelled. But not having to take care of your hair? What a nice thing to rid ones self of. I am at the point now, when hair starts to grow in it doesn't look right and I happily shave it off. (I call it my juvenile bird of prey look).
I never would have thought that I would prefer to be bald.
Some people actually thought I was terminally ill, some people thought I was crazy, but no. I wasn't and am NOT (anymore than usual).
I just wanted to be the one to decide when I went bald and not the other way around.