Bald Truth

My hair was cut short (1/4-inch) last Friday. It began falling out the following Monday.  Despite all my preparations, the hair loss this past week was a difficult experience. My military-style haircut probably made it less traumatic than losing clumps of long hair would have been. I hardly recognize the falling pieces, since they are so dark and short. But the constant hair loss was/is still hard.

Losing short hair (as opposed to long hair) also has a serious disadvantage: all those little loose pieces on my scalp and falling onto my neck and into my clothes ITCH LIKE CRAZY. It's enough to drive me batty. I shower twice a day to relieve the itching and wash more hairs away. Tuesday, I could no longer stand it, so I shaved off most of my remaining hair with an electric razor. It's not pretty -- I left a ring around the edge to help me adjust the wig. I look like a tonsured monk. But it feels better. And, surprisingly, I'm more comfortable with baldness than I am with constant hair loss.

Funny: The remaining bristles on my scalp serve a very practical purpose. They act like Velcro to hold my beautiful silk scarves in place. I feel them poke through the top and know that this scarf is staying put, no matter how windy the weather.

I find myself wearing scarves more than a wig. Scarves are more comfortable (especially silk ones since loose hair doesn't cling to them) and feel more secure. The wig looks fine in the mirror, but I constantly worry that it's not on correctly. If anyone so much as looks at me in public, I'm positive my hair is on crooked and that everyone is staring at the lady in the wig...

In truth, the only funny looks I've gotten were from my kids. Although we discussed it for months beforehand and have a wonderful book about a bald mother going through chemotherapy (Nowhere Hair by Sue Glader), the kids still can't get over the fact that their mom is going bald and wears a wig. Every time they see me wearing my wig in public, like when I pick them up from school or an after-school activity, they look at my hair first and then give me this funny smirk. It's like we're co-conspirators in some great, secret joke.

My hair loss is also the first physical manifestation of cancer to my children. They have done very well so far with the surgeries and recovery and other chemotherapy effects. All along, I have educated them about what is happening to me and have answered their questions honestly and completely. But I could see in their faces, when they saw my shorn hair the first time this past week, a look of shock nearing horror. Since then, both have asked me if kids get cancer and how they would know if they had cancer. But they, like me, will come to accept it over time.


I'm including a photo of me in my wig. There were so many choices of style and color that it wasn't an easy decision. But I like that this one is a little messy ("tousled"??) -- like my natural hair.

I'm also including a picture that shows my inspiration for hair color choice. In my quest to raise a strong, confident daughter, what an honor to be able to say to her without words: if I could choose any hair color, I would choose yours.