I Spent Years Trying to Fix My Hair Loss—Until I Started Investigating My Gut Health
I spent two years treating my hair loss with sprays, serums and supplements. The biggest shift came when I started treating it from the inside.
Two years ago, I had a dedicated ‘hair loss shelf’ in my bathroom. Scalp serums. Density sprays. Detox shampoos. Supplements lined up beside the sink. After years of shedding, specialist appointments and failed treatments, I dreaded wash days. The brush was my enemy. My scalp felt sore and reactive, almost sunburnt at times, particularly around ovulation and before my period. My temples had started thinning and my parting looked visibly wider. I avoided mirrors. Nights out became harder to say yes to. My confidence quietly collapsed.
But my hair wasn’t the only thing struggling.
Long before the shedding became impossible to ignore, my body started sending signals that something was off. I was constantly exhausted. My digestion had never properly recovered after a bout of severe food poisoning abroad. My cycles had become increasingly irregular. I developed painful inflammatory lesions on my hands and was later monitored for chilblain lupus. But no one seemed to consider whether they were all connected. When it came to my hair loss, the focus always returned to scalp-based solutions rather than exploring how my wider health might be contributing.
Hair loss in women is commonly diagnosed, but rarely fully understood. Across social media, dermatology clinics and women’s health forums, more women are trying to understand why chronic shedding seems to be increasingly common. Labels like ‘telogen effluvium’ or ‘female pattern hair loss’ can be clinically accurate, yet they still fail to explain why hair shedding began in the first place.
But my hair wasn’t the only thing struggling.
For many women, chronic hair loss exists alongside gut dysfunction, immune stress, hormonal disruption or post-infectious inflammation, factors that often sit outside the scope of a scalp diagnosis once it has been made. In my case, when an NHS biopsy eventually confirmed chronic telogen effluvium alongside androgenic alopecia, I thought I’d finally have answers. Instead, I was left unsatisfied. The diagnosis explained what was happening to my hair, but not why my body seemed unable to recover. It felt like the story had ended without ever really being explained.
Around this time, I began working with trichologist Shannel Watson. She was not interested in overriding diagnoses or offering alternative labels. Instead, she kept asking questions about context: timing, stress, immune load, digestion, hormones, inflammation, nutrition and my health history.
What changed was not a single diagnosis, but the framework itself. For the first time, someone was looking at my hair loss as part of a wider physiological picture rather than an isolated scalp issue.
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“Hair is a non-essential tissue; the body will sacrifice it very quickly when it’s under chronic stress or inflammation,” explains Watson. “By the time many women notice shedding, the body may already have been compensating for dysfunction elsewhere for months—or even years.”
That shift in perspective led to extensive testing, including gut microbiome analysis through Randox Health, alongside blood tests and abdominal scans via London Blood Tests. The results painted a much broader picture than I expected.
Further GI testing revealed significant gut dysbiosis (an imbalance in the community of microorganisms living in your digestive tract) alongside evidence of a parasite. My scalp microbiome also showed signs of imbalance, including low bacterial diversity (fewer different types of bacteria than is optimal) and higher levels of bacteria often associated with inflammation.
Separately, hormone testing suggested chronic cortisol dysregulation. None of these findings in isolation fully explained my hair loss. Together, though, they started to explain why my body appeared stuck in a constant state of physiological stress.
Hair is a non-essential tissue; the body will sacrifice it very quickly when it’s under chronic stress or inflammation.
I was not neglecting my health. I had changed my diet, stopped drinking alcohol, cut caffeine, spent heavily on supplements and followed protocols based on blood work and specialist guidance. But despite making some gains, I never seemed able to properly stabilise the bigger picture.
My approach became far more targeted. Using the test results as a guide, I removed gluten and refined sugar from my diet and significantly reduced dairy. I began a tailored supplement protocol to support digestion, address nutritional deficiencies, and help regulate the inflammatory process that may have been contributing to my symptoms. For the first time, the goal wasn’t forcing my hair to grow back as quickly as possible. It was convincing my body it was safe again.
The results were not dramatic in the way social media had conditioned me to expect. There was no miracle supplement. No overnight transformation. Addressing the underlying strain did not suddenly produce thick, glossy hair—Watson never promised a quick fix. The emphasis was always on stabilisation first, understanding that hair recovery often significantly lags behind improvements elsewhere in the body.
But it did something quieter and more important. My scalp became calmer. The soreness significantly reduced. Inflammatory lesions on my hands hadn’t appeared in months. My nails, which had become weak and brittle during the peak of my shedding, started growing stronger again. I had more energy. And for the first time in almost a year, things stopped getting progressively worse.
Only afterwards did I begin noticing changes in my hair itself. The shedding became less aggressive. I started seeing regrowth around my temples and hairline. My roots felt denser. What I began to understand was this: hair loss does not always respond to being attacked. It responds to being supported.
For the first time in almost a year, things stopped getting progressively worse.
Watson also identified another overlooked factor: buildup on my scalp, likely from sebum, hard-water minerals, and bacterial biofilm. Together, they may have been contributing to a low-grade inflammatory environment around the follicles.
I live in a very hard-water area and installed a whole-house water-softening system several months ago (showerhead filters offer a more affordable starting point for tackling certain impurities). I noticed my shampoo lathered properly again almost immediately and my hair felt smoother and less congested at the root.
Watson also advised me to stop overusing harsher detox shampoos and focus instead on protecting my scalp barrier. I shifted to gentler, barrier-supportive products that cleaned my scalp thoroughly without leaving it stripped or reactive afterwards.
I tried to simplify my scalp routine, adding calming treatments like Philip Kingsley’s Overnight Scalp Barrier Serum and the FAQ 301 by FOREO to help reduce inflammation and support circulation. “People often end up over-treating the scalp,” Watson explains. “Sometimes it needs calming and rebalancing rather than stronger actives.”
Of course, gut health is not the sole answer to female hair loss, nor does every woman experiencing shedding have underlying dysbiosis or inflammation. Genetics, hormones and medical conditions still matter enormously. And my hair loss is not ‘cured’ – recovery has been anything but linear. But this experience has fundamentally changed the way I understand hair loss. For years, I treated my hair as the problem. What I’m starting to realise is that it may simply have been one of the first visible signs that my body was struggling long before I was ready to listen.
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