We'll discuss hair again
because I want to.
So - I just hate being bald. That is my statement of fact. I have this gross growth on my scalp that Caleb says looks like my brain is exploding out of my head. My scalp is all kinds of textures? I mean what even is this? It’s gross. Why can’t I stop touching it? How often should I wash this baldness? Daily? Bi daily? Weekly? What do I use? Shampoo? Face wash? Soap? Bald is just not the business for me. It is not my look. It is some people’s look, I will give you that. Some people look truly fabulous bald. I am surrounded by lots of bald, beautiful people. My family does bald frequently and well. I have lots of bald friends and I would never judge someone their bald. Really I mean it, I believe that on some people bald is beautiful; I just don’t fit into that category, if you ask me. I also very much appreciate everyone who tells me how good I look bald. I mean, I appreciate that you think that, really, thanks, but, no… I don’t think so.
It was brought to my attention that I think more about my hair than most people. I had no idea. I didn’t know I was different but it’s becoming more and more clear that I definitely think more about my hair than some other people. I can not confirm that it’s more than most, but it’s totally plausible that it is. Obviously it’s a lot because I don’t even have hair right now and I think about my hair/head A LOT. This is what, my third rambling on the matter?
I thought I would be chic and wear cool head scarves. I am not chic. I have never been anything chic so why would I be turban chic? I wish I was. It really breaks my heart that I’m not. I count it as an actual personal failure that I have not gotten the hang of wrapping my head beautifully and tightly, let alone stylishly. This failure ranks right up there with not being able to do great braids on myself or others. When I was in elementary school I was jealous of the girls who had braiding people in their homes. Moms, nannies, sisters… these friends of mine got tight, fresh braids on the daily and I wanted that but definitely did not have casual access to at home braiders. My people are boy people; girls are few and far between and no one wanted to spend hours braiding my hair and no one had long hair for me to practice on. Clearly this has deeply affected me. As a child and teenager sometimes I’d find a friend who had the talent and I’d work up the courage to ask for two tight braids. They’d oblige, but it definitely wasn’t something that was happening for me on the regular. In college I took to paying people at walk in hair salons many of my dollars for a day and night of braids. In my later twenties I had a braiding roommate, a magical friend who can do hair and make up with the best of them, and I tell you, when I moved in with Adam it wasn’t without first considering the sacrifices I’d be making hair wise. But enough about braids, right? (For now. Honestly no promises about what I write in the future.) This hair loss has almost nothing to do with braids except that I wish I had some right now. Braids are the best.
When my hair first left I wore beanies since I’m a head wrap flop. A friend sent one with a satin inside, and I will tell you, yesssssss. Satin on bald is good. But now it’s 80 degrees and not getting any cooler so that’s just not going to work. Same friend also generously gifted some cute patterned lightweight head coverings. I love them, but sometimes they feel more appropriate for inside the house to me. Like I also like my robe but should I wear it to school pick up? No. I probably should not. I tried a hat, like a regular old baseball cap. Hard no. Do you know how bad it feels to look at yourself cancer bald? Now imagine that but with a hat. It’s terrible. You guys, it’s maybe worse than bald straight up. If you can believe that.
On a particularly I-feel-terrible-bald-day a friend came to the rescue and took my bald self to to the wig shop. Ahhhh what a relief to have an option to look normal. I finally felt a little like myself again in the mirror. It was exactly what I needed that day. I got a bang trim, I got a special wig only hair brush. Girls, I was feeling that wig. I’m grateful to have it for when I need it. It’s really a great wig. Wig, I couldn't do bald without you.
But.. do you know what that wig is on my head? Well, it’s a few things. For starters, that wig is hot. Like, warm hot, not like hubba hubba, aaah-oooga hot. I thought having my own hair made my head hot. Lol, silly me. Wigs are hotter. I thought getting a real hair breathable wig would be doable. People wear wigs all the time. I have no idea how they do it. I CAN NOT with the heat that radiates from my scalp from under this wig. It is like, whoa.
Also, this wig on my head is not my hair and I miss my hair. I miss doing my hair. I miss washing my hair. I miss thinking about how I’m going to style my hair. I like major mucho mega miss my hair. But, again, let me mention that I am grateful for this wig, truly, thank you wig.
The wig is wonderful for giving me a way to blend in with the crowd and not look so cancer, I guess, but what it is on my head is a fucking wig and no matter what I’m told about how much it looks like my hair I think it looks like a wig and it doesn’t look like actual ME but wig me when I look in the mirror and that’s really the hardest part. Having cancer sucks. Big time.
I hate being bald. So much so much.