Roman Hair Loss Quiz Results: What Doctors Recommended for Me

You know that feeling? That gut-wrenching, stomach-dropping dread when you catch your reflection in a brightly lit store window and it’s not *you* looking back? It’s some haggard, older dude with a spotlight shining directly on a scalp that looks like a worn-out carpet. Yeah, that was me. For years, every damn mirror was an enemy, every bad hair day a full-blown existential crisis. I swear, the only thing growing faster than my receding hairline was my resentment.

I was 32 when it started, just a slight thinning at the temples. Cute, I thought. Maybe it’s just stress. By 34, I was wearing hats indoors, even in my own damn apartment, because the thought of someone seeing the sad, shiny patch on my crown made me want to curl up and die. My hair loss wasn’t just physical, it was a constant, gnawing anxiety, like a bad roommate living rent-free in my head, whispering “balding loser” every single morning. And the worst part? The money. Oh god, the MONEY. I spent like a goddamn idiot, throwing cash at anything that promised a miracle. I’m still bitter about the $1,200 I wasted on those biotin gummies that tasted like regret and made my nails grow fast but NOT MY HAIR, jesus Christ. And that $800 on that stupid laser comb from Amazon in 2021? Don’t even get me started. My ex’s new partner probably has a full head of hair without even trying. FML.

I mean, I tried everything, okay? Caffeine shampoos that smelled like disappointment, minoxidil foams that left my scalp sticky and flaky, a pricey Beverly Hills dermatologist who just shrugged and said, “It’s genetics, Alex. Get over it.” Like, thanks, Dr. Fancy-Pants. Real helpful. I was literally up at 3 AM most nights, staring at my phone, googling “hair transplants Turkey cost” like a lunatic planning a desperate escape. I was convinced that was my only option, even though I knew I couldn’t afford it without selling a kidney or something.

Then, earlier in 2023, a friend, bless his annoying, perfectly coiffed head, mentioned Roman. I rolled my eyes so hard I almost sprained them. *Another* online thing? Another subscription box of false hope? I was cynical, okay? Beyond cynical. I was aggressively skeptical. But he mentioned a free, 2-minute quiz, completely private, no insurance needed. And I thought, *whatever*. What’s another two minutes down the drain when I’ve already pissed away years and thousands of dollars? This is probably just another trick to get your email, I thought. But my desperation had officially surpassed my pride.

### Is the Roman Hair Loss Quiz Even Legit, or Just Another Money Sink?

Honestly, my expectations were lower than my hairline used to be. I was picturing some clickbait survey that ended with “buy our snake oil!” and a smiling stock photo model with suspiciously perfect hair. I mean, after everything, after the actual blood, sweat, and tears (mostly tears, let’s be real) I’d shed over this, how could a *quiz* possibly help?

I remember it was a Tuesday afternoon, gloomy as hell outside. I was sitting at my messy desk, surrounded by empty coffee cups and overdue bills, trying to ignore the weird smell coming from the kitchen sink where I’d left some dishes for, like, three days. My phone was at 17% and I was scrolling through Twitter, seeing some ridiculous drama unfolding, and I just thought, *fuck it*. I clicked the link. The quiz was… surprisingly simple. It asked about my age, my hair loss pattern, how long it had been happening, if I had any existing medical conditions. No awkward questions, no judging looks. It felt… discreet. Which, after years of feeling exposed and ashamed, was actually a relief. I didn’t have to explain my entire sad history to some disinterested receptionist before even seeing a doctor. It just asked what it needed to know. I’m telling you, it was so easy, I almost felt cheated. Like, surely it can’t be *that* simple to get legitimate medical advice? I still have zero idea why this actually worked when nothing else did. Maybe it’s the lack of pressure? The pure, unadulterated convenience? Whatever it was, it felt different. For the first time in years, I thought, *What did Roman’s doctors actually suggest for a receding hairline like mine?* I mean, it was free, right? Worst case, I’d just get another spam email, probably.

### What Did Roman’s Doctors *Actually* Recommend for My Sad, Receding Hairline?

The weirdest thing? I didn’t have to wait ages. After the quiz, a licensed physician reviewed my information. Pretty quickly, I got a personalized treatment plan. My **Roman Hair Loss Quiz Results: What Doctors Recommended for Me** was a topical finasteride + minoxidil spray. I’d heard of both finasteride and minoxidil separately, obviously, but never a combined spray. My initial thought was, *Oh, great, more chemicals on my head. This is gonna make me grow a third eye or something.* And I still had that deep-seated rage about all the money I’d spent before. That $47 serum from Sephora that made my face break out in hives on a Tuesday afternoon when I had a job interview the next day? Yeah, I still remember that. The bitterness is real.

But the doctor’s explanation was clear, no fancy jargon, just straightforward. They explained *why* they recommended it, which was a welcome change from “it’s genetics, whatever.” They didn’t try to upsell me on some crazy laser helmet or injectables. It felt… honest. No, I’m not a doctor myself — just a dude who tried a bunch of stuff and ended up here — but the logic made sense, even to my skeptical brain. I decided to pull the trigger. What was another, like, fifty bucks a month compared to the THOUSANDS I’d already thrown away? I was desperate, remember?

The spray arrived discreetly, which I appreciated. No giant “BALD GUY CURE” written on the box. I started using it, fully expecting nothing. Six months later, something actually happened. I was at my barber, Marco, over on Melrose, getting my usual “try to hide the bald spot” trim. He’s been cutting my hair for years, seen it go from slightly thin to “oh god, is that a giant forehead or a tiny head?” And as he was working, he actually stopped. “Hey Alex,” he said, “is it just me, or is your hair… thicker?”

I almost cried right there in the chair, not even joking. My barber, a man who sees hundreds of heads a week, noticed. That was the moment. That was the breakthrough. It wasn’t a sudden explosion of hair like those infomercials, it was gradual. But it was *real*. My temples, which had been basically bare land for years, started showing little fuzz. My crown, which I’d been strategically combing over since, well, forever, felt denser. I remember walking out of that barbershop, the sun actually feeling warm on my scalp instead of glaringly exposing, and thinking, *holy shit, it worked*. You can even see some of the early progress I made in my Roman Finasteride and Minoxidil Combo: My 6-Month Update. I still don’t understand the science, I just know it worked for me.

Now, over two years in – it’s December 2025, if you’re keeping track – my hairline is stable. The crown is filled in. I don’t wear hats indoors anymore. I don’t jump at every reflection. My confidence is back, you know? It’s not like I’m suddenly Brad Pitt, but I feel like *me* again. It’s insane how much difference a full head of hair makes to your mental state. I still get annoyed by my neighbor’s dog barking at 6 AM every single morning, and I’m pretty sure I have moldy cheese in my fridge from last month, but at least my hair isn’t adding to my daily existential dread. Oh wait, my phone just hit 3%. SHIT.

Look, I’m not here to pretend I’m a doctor. I’m just a guy who wasted a fortune on garbage for years, felt like crap, and finally found something that actually helped. This isn’t a miracle cure for everyone, obviously. But if you’re sitting there, scrolling at 2 AM, feeling that same desperate, helpless rage I felt, wondering what the hell to do, maybe give the Roman quiz a shot. It’s free. It’s quick. It’s private. And hey, maybe it’ll save you the years and the thousands of dollars I stupidly pissed away. Just click the link, answer a few questions, and see what a real doctor recommends for *you*. Honestly, what do you have to lose? Besides, you know, more hair. And your self-respect. Buddy, stop it—okay, back to it. Just spilled coffee on my keyboard, FML. My cat just knocked over my coffee mug, I’m done.