I've finally started venturing out without a wig, which is huge. As much as I hated those hot, uncomfortable things, they provided a certain security blanket for me, allowing me to feel a little less like an advertisement for the 
fact that I was going through chemotherapy and more like a normal person. But I was always aware that I was wearing one and constantly dreamed about having hair of my own again. Now it's finally happening, but my own hair is not quite long enough to feel really comfortable with yet. I feel a bit androgynous actually, and as though there's a flashing light over my head saying "chemo", but at the same time, its nice to have the freedom of not dealing with wigs.
I was totally unprepared for the trauma of losing my hair. I knew it would be hard - I didn't know it would change the way I approached my days. I've told friends that I would endure surgery and recovery again in a minute if I could trade that for not losing my hair. It's been, by far, the most difficult part of this journey. And I think I know why.
From the time girls are very small, people fuss over their hair. We say things to little girls like "Oh - your hair looks beautiful" or "What pretty hair you have". We put it up in braids and pigtails and spend time making it look nice, and little girls learn pretty quickly that their hair is an important part of who they are. Combine that with the fact that my hair is one of only two things I've ever really received compliments about in terms of my physical appearance (my eyes are the other) and I think its clear that for me, hair was an important factor in my self-esteem. I know I'm not alone - many women have shared their own horrors at the prospect of chemotherapy when they went through their battles with cancer. So at least I know I'm normal.
And now, its coming back. And I'm learning to deal with the fact that I cannot brush it yet or put a curling iron to it - I just have to take it like it is: short, short, short. But its mine and it won't come off if someone tugs at it - so I'll take it.
fact that I was going through chemotherapy and more like a normal person. But I was always aware that I was wearing one and constantly dreamed about having hair of my own again. Now it's finally happening, but my own hair is not quite long enough to feel really comfortable with yet. I feel a bit androgynous actually, and as though there's a flashing light over my head saying "chemo", but at the same time, its nice to have the freedom of not dealing with wigs.I was totally unprepared for the trauma of losing my hair. I knew it would be hard - I didn't know it would change the way I approached my days. I've told friends that I would endure surgery and recovery again in a minute if I could trade that for not losing my hair. It's been, by far, the most difficult part of this journey. And I think I know why.
From the time girls are very small, people fuss over their hair. We say things to little girls like "Oh - your hair looks beautiful" or "What pretty hair you have". We put it up in braids and pigtails and spend time making it look nice, and little girls learn pretty quickly that their hair is an important part of who they are. Combine that with the fact that my hair is one of only two things I've ever really received compliments about in terms of my physical appearance (my eyes are the other) and I think its clear that for me, hair was an important factor in my self-esteem. I know I'm not alone - many women have shared their own horrors at the prospect of chemotherapy when they went through their battles with cancer. So at least I know I'm normal.
And now, its coming back. And I'm learning to deal with the fact that I cannot brush it yet or put a curling iron to it - I just have to take it like it is: short, short, short. But its mine and it won't come off if someone tugs at it - so I'll take it.
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