I don't think I really understood how awful the situation is with her scalp until looking closely at this pic. Hair fibres go a long way toward covering up bald spots, like on the crown of the head. Or if you have alopecia that causes hair loss in specific areas, in diffuse spots across the scalp, hair fibres can help fill in the gaps.
But the product was not meant to recreate an entire head of hair, including a widow's peak, when one is 100 hairs away from going full Homer Simpson. That has got to be terribly uncomfortable and god help her if she really begins to sweat. Dom's floor mattress needs to be burned because it's covered in ass sweat, food crumbs, roll flop debris and black soot.
The contrast between Chantal and her family is stark. I know all the design purists will find flaw with Kim's house, but she's clearly a woman who took care to feather her nest and keeps it tidy and clean. Look at how beloved Buster is, clearly well-cared for, his little blanket spread out on the chair. Chantal is as out of place in that home as a gorilla would be. As Chantal wallowed on the couch, eye-fucking herself as she sang, doing nothing to help, I hoped she wasn't getting too much hair fibre on her mother's walls and furnishings, that she didn't stink so badly she'd ruin appetites, that she wouldn't start talking about Dom shaving her ass over birthday cake, that she didn't gorge on edibles before driving out there.
I know people hold Kim to bear for how Chantal turned out. I think she tried, but she was also a teen mom and all her attempts to corral Chantal failed until she had to send Chantal to that weird juvie/group home. I don't think there is a parenting method that could have prevented Chantal from becoming a monster. She was born to be this way, the nature side of nature versus nurture, and that her family treat her the way every family treats that one member everyone loathes but still loves in some manner. Don't engage, don't challenge, don't fight, because to do any of that will result in a rage tantrum that will destroy the day. Just let her wallow on the couch, tic, irritate the dog, gorge, talk about sex and boogers and shit, and when she leaves to go fuck that immigrant drug dealer, then everyone can relax and celebrate.