Last Friday, I shaved my head.
It wasn't nearly as traumatic as I thought it would be. After my breakdowns earlier in the week, my hair continued to fall out in force, and by Friday I was so ready for it to just be gone. I kept reading all these articles on how to preserve your hair as long as possible, but honestly, the effort to not use heat, and to limit the washings, and not brushing it, wasn't going to prolong the inevitable to make it worth all the effort. So I did just the opposite. I bleached it blonde, I brushed it constantly, and by Thursday, when the 3 million out of the 5 million strands of hair (I read that was the average amount of hair on a human head) were falling out in droves, I just went for it and started pulling. Mostly because I had gelled my hair back, and hated it the whole day. So when I got home, I started brushing it out. Then I started pulling it out. And I couldn't stop.
Guys, it was so hideous that I only sent a picture to a few people. Think Gollum. Or the Grand High Witch. It cannot be posted here, or anywhere. I have threatened people with their lives if the picture were to leak.
So, by Friday, I was ready. My friend Ali came over and shaved it, and while the cool breeze on my bald head felt rather nice, I couldn't stand to look in the mirror. I avoided the mirrors for several hours. A part of me didn't want to have another breakdown, especially in front of people, and a part of me just wasn't ready. Ali said that I had a nice shaped head, and both she and Matti said I was rocking it pretty well. But I waited until everyone was gone, and then took off the extensions that Ali had made for me to wear under a hat (seriously, she's the best!) and stood and looked in the mirror. Honestly, it's not that bad.
Honestly, I'm surprised at how easy it was to see my naked scalp. I guess I got it out of my system. Because the last three days, I've been totally fine. I rub my fuzzy head and showers are shorter (sort of) and it's just so low maintenance. And I still have eyelashes and eyebrows that I can play up and still look feminine and pretty, and kind of badass. I sort of like it.
But I like my wig more. Except when it gets itchy, which it does, by the end of the day.
Wig shopping was an adventure. The list we were going off of came in the official Cancer Binder, and it was terribly out of date and not very helpful. There were addresses that were wrong, and while some of the shops were wig shops, others were hair restoration places that required appointments. We went into one such place, and the snooty office manager, Marcus, was absolutely unhelpful. We finally had success at Jean Paree. I tried on a few wigs, and I the one I picked was the one that made me feel the most normal after a month of worrying about my hair, and cutting it short, and then having it fall out, I found a wig that felt like the hair that I had been wearing for the past two years--if just a little blonder--and naturally, it was the most expensive. So I knew it was meant to be.
The FTC stood by and looked like two proud gay moms. Kati was snapping pictures and both were extremely supportive.
I know I say this all the time, but I really do no know how I would be surviving all of this without my incredible friends and family.
Since getting the wig, I have worn it every day. And I like it. Except when it itches. The weather is cooler, so I haven't been too hot, which is good. And I can wear the wig while my hair is still trying to grow out. I feel like this was a really good solution for me.
Now all I have to fear is the loss of my brows and lashes. Ugh.