In preparation of my impending hair loss, I decided to chop and dye my all-too-new curly mane into a short pixie. Then, after I got released from the hospital for heart palpitations due to my enemy, aka prolonged QT syndrome (bastard!), I thought why not have some fun with it before it ends up on the floor, (and well, let’s face it…everywhere else you can imagine!). I remember desperately wanting to bleach and colour my hair in junior high school, (I was heavy in the grunge phase and well, it looked cool as sh*t in the 90’s! lol). My parents would not let me use the bleach, but I did put some punky colour in my hair anyway, it just didn’t quite show up in my naturally dark hair, much to my disappointment. This was an act of rebellion and an homage to my 13-year-old self. The girl who oh-so-desperately wanted to go to Woodstock ’94 to see all of her favorite bands but ended up at summer camp instead, (ugh!). The girl who wore Doc Marten’s on a daily basis and her father’s old flannel shirts from the 70’s, (cause that is definitely the last time he wore plaid!). The girl with so much potential with a bright future ahead of her. 20 years later, I’d like to think I can be that girl again…just a little older and wiser.
I made a point today of putting away all of my many hair products and styling stuff. It’s best to get that out of the way now before it starts falling out and feels more depressing. I know, I know for a fact that it grows back. I have witnessed it first hand. That much like it says on every list of possible side effects I encounter, it is a temporary hair loss. But you know what? It still really sucks. Women value their hair, it makes them feel feminine and sexy. I have been known for my hair for as long as I can remember. People are constantly complementing me on it. That long, thick, wavy, Gisele Bundchen-esque crown of glory that I loved and prided myself in pre-cancer. My hair had become my thing. A significant part of my identity. Something I was known for. You never imagine that one day you will be utterly bald, as a woman. It was really hard to look into a mirror without crying, without feeling ugly…like I had lost my essence. Thinking that I looked sick. Someone close to me recently told me that my hair isn’t who I am and whether I am bald or not, I am still exactly who I am and that I would always be beautiful (gotta appreciate that ending!). That really helped to remind me that I am still me, no matter what I may look like. I still have the same hopes and dreams, the same sense of humor and tastes, the same feelings in my heart and mind. The same love for my family and friends, (and let’s not forget all the animals). I have to remind myself constantly that I am more than just a body, more than just hair. I am a soul, and my soul cannot and will not be altered by this disease. Cancer is not my life. Though when I am bald, standing naked in the mirror looking at my reflection , it can be pretty tough to recall. At the end of the day though, despite appearances and the situation, it’s always still just me.