My hair is growing back. I’m not quite sure how I feel about this…
On the one hand, I’m really glad to have it coming back. As a woman, not having hair was rather de-feminizing. That’s why I wore headbands and put cute pins on them, to add a touch of “girlieness” to the baldness. Also increased the amount of eye makeup I wore, and got larger, more ornate earings. Overall, a nice effect.
Being bald was not that bad to adjust to, and without the circumstances, it was interesting and “freeing”. Freeing to not worry about my hair, was I having a good or bad hair day. Every day was a “no hair day”…
My friend, Tim, came over the other day, and he told me that I am rocking the lesbian look. Ok, now I’m pretty sure that not all lesbians have short butchy haircuts… plus, I’m not lesbian. He did say it was kinda sexy… so – Yah, Thanks Tim!
On the other hand, being bald was like a sign that I am sick, that I am battling. Since I don’t look like the “typical” cancer victim of thin and frail, my bald head was what signaled that I am at war…
I stopped to get coffee on the way to the Dr the other morning, and the gal asked what I was up to for the day. I mentioned that I was going to the Dr and she asked if I was sick. I looked at her and said, I have cancer, that’s why I have no hair. And she told me that she just thought I had a really short haircut. I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. I know it made her feel bad, but I couldn’t help it.
It’s not that being bald is my identity, it’s that I have come to see it as a symbol, a symbol that I am fighting. Being bald is the one thing that openly displays the fight I am engaged in… and the symbol is being removed… but the cancer is not removed and I am still fighting… still fighting.
What can I say… I’m just not sure how I feel about it.
My hair is growing back regardless of how I feel…