IN MY SHOES: Bald Is My New Normal
By Cynthia Ruccia
Let me make this perfectly clear: Losing your hair is very different than planning to lose your hair. With great bravado I have put up post after post about how it was going to be when my purple tinged locks fell out. I didn't realize how deeply attached to my hair I was.
After my second chemo session on Tuesday, December 21, my hair started to come out in my hands in clumps. I knew I would have to shave my head because I didn't want hair all over the house, clogging up my drains and floating around in the pool because it had slipped off my head while I was swimming laps.
My husband, Nick, had lymphoma a few years back, and when he was at this juncture, I shaved his head. Now, we reversed roles. While he laid down newspapers on the kitchen floor and gathered the clippers and razors, I had a good cry.
My husband is an engineer, and he is very very precise in all that he does. I love this quality about him because he is so in earnest about always giving his best effort, and my head shaving was no exception. He first cut my hair with the scissors, then with the clippers, then shaved my head with an electric razor and, finally, used shaving cream and a straight razor. My head had been lovingly denuded.
The thing is, once bald, you have to develop a whole new set of habits to cope with the logistics of baldness. You actually have to think about such things as washing and moisturizing your scalp, wearing something on your head to keep from getting cold or hot, whether to put the wig on before or after doing your makeup, the techniques of how to put the wig on so it will look nice and not like you grabbed your floor mop and put it on your head.
I look in the mirror and I'm not sure I like what I see. People who know me tell me it really looks almost like my real hair and they can't tell the difference other than it looks like I've combed it out a little differently. That makes me feel good. My body having been invaded by surgery and chemo doesn't feel like mine, and if I don't look so different, it's a big plus. But the best moment came the day after Christmas as I entered the locker room at the gym. Someone who I had never met said to me, "I love your hair!!! How do you get it that way?" That is the exact same reaction I always got to my real hair because of the purple streaks! A wave of relief swept over me - maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
I do need to give a huge shout out to my hairdresser Jeff Stuckey who labored mightily to make me a wig with purple streaks. When I got that compliment at the gym, I told the person my whole story. Next time I'm just going to give the same standard issue response I always give my hairdresser does it!
But the wig gets uncomfortable: It can dig into your scalp after awhile, and I find that when I get home, all I want to do is yank it off my head. However, I can't stand the way I look bald, so I went to a local boutique that specializes in paraphernalia for women going through breast cancer treatments - a head shop for bald heads – and tried on tons of hats, scarves, turbans, and other creative and comfortable headpieces. I got four very cool wraps for my head, comfortable and chic as can be, and they were 40 percent off in the after Christmas sale.
Now I'm just waiting for the hair to fall off my legs so I won't have to shave again for a long time!
Editorial Note: Cynthia Ruccia, a contributor to this blog, writes about post-liberal feminism at Too Cynthia. An earlier version of this post was published on her blog.
Comments