In the chemo days. I would've given anything just to feel human, to feel normal. My friends organized a little get together where they raised enough money for me to buy a really nice real hair wig. Which is exactly what I did. I wore that baby to the grocery store, to the mall....anywhere really. Except chemo. After chemo and my hair started to grow back they told me not to wear the wig because the hair would itch and wouldn't grow as well. I spent money on products to help my hair grow back and to help me feel human.
Unless you've gone bald.....you can't understand. Dudes. I get it too, it's traumatic. I feel for you. It's become socially acceptable to be a bald dude. Many "Rock" the look. ;) For women it's so traumatic and usually accompanied by the removal of breasts, which are two things that besides a vagina, make a girl feel like a woman. To be honest....without the other parts....the vag can't summon much on her own it's not like you put on a pair of extra stretchy tights and cameltoe it looking for a good time.... espcially when it's toddler like because you've lost all your hair. The parts that had made me a woman outwardly, for the most part were gone. Minus the cheekbones. Still got those babies....
Anyway. My hair is growing back, but I don't love the stage it's in. I have to let it get long so I can do stuff with it. I don't know if I'll stay short, or I'll grow long, but I want the bangs longer for an ear tuck at least. Not gonna lie, yesterday I had some baileys in my coffee and Madeleine and I got crazy with the wigs. We tried on every one I had. And I have quite a few, some donated, some purchased. Some with names.
I decided for the day on a fun curly blonde one, because it did look closest to my old hair when I would highlight it and curl it a little, for effect. I put on makeup, I put on fucking jeans. Jason was like "whoa...where are you going?". It was then I realized what I'd become. Lululemon. Comfort wear. No sexy clothes. HELL NO. No tits to push up. No ass to parade around. I looked in the mirror and was like......"Oh hello". I put on some lashes, some lipstick and hit the road.
I was headed straight to my naturopath to pick up a few supplements that had been on backorder but whatever. Big mama was out. Had on the 99.9 the Weekend was singing to me about being awesome. I had my sunglasses on, my wig all just so and when I stopped at the stop light....a dude pulled up beside me and rolled down his window. Gave me a wink. I was old me. Lit.
OOH Wee.
So I went to my naturopath and waved at him from the counter while he was in the back and he came out....when he heard my voice he laughed and was like "I wondered who that lady was waving at me". I said "It's wig Saturday" He smiled and went back to Dr stuff. The lady at the reception was like "OMG....you look so different.....I didn't even recognize you!" Another lady in there was like..."I wish my hair would curl like that...." I said "It's a wig" and she said "NO WAY!" I said "Yes, my girls got it for me when I was bald as hell.....I put it on when I feel I need a boost...to feel normal" she said, "well it's awesome". That was that.
I got into the car and looked in the mirror and felt like a fraud. I felt good....and pretty and like old me...but....old me is gone. That person...will never come back. After everything I've been through, tossing on a wig is like putting lipstick on a pig. It's not covering up the real essence of the person.
I got home. Danced around a little to The Talking Heads and then drank my afternoon juice and took my supplements, a new one included that had just been prescribed. I started to feel not so awesome.
Moments later my wig was on the bathroom floor and I was throwing up into the toilet. Feeling weak and sick and all those things. The makeup I had taken so much time to put on was streaming down my face and I was just trying to be quiet enough so my kids didn't hear me from upstairs and start to worry. Jason was out and I text him he needed to come home. I felt so helpless....so weak and sick and needed to hit my chair if I could get up off the floor.
The body takes a long time to recover from chemo and radiation. THey're nuclear bombs to the body and anything new, or any new excitement or change effects energy and my delicate system. The Baileys likely didn't help.
Anyway. I took off the wig. I cleaned my face. I put on my onesie and I laid in my chair and put something on in the background for me to pass out to, because I knew I was done. I could barely ask my kids to come downstairs to empty the dishwasher before I passed out.
I slept in the chair for a good while. Woke up and looked in the mirror. Gah. Back to new....me. But in the meantime several of my good friends had posted on my facebook and private messaged me that while the wig was lovely, my grey hair was just so much more me now. Fierce, strong and sexy in a new way. I took it in.... and I did appreciate those comments.
When I felt better I went into the bedroom to change and snapped this stupid shot of myself high on anti-nauseants. It's ME. Not old or new. Just me.
No makeup, no wig. Tired and a little wrinkly. That's it. Yesterday I accepted, this is who I am. No more "Old me" or "new me". Just who I am today and some days are good and some days are bad and in no way does the way I look determine my worth as a woman.
I like my grey hair. I'm ok with it short. I'm ok with wrinkles and what comes with menopause (which I'm in now). I'm ok with me moving forward.
I'm not a Barbie anymore.(Reen...LOL) I spent a lot of time being a head turner. Now I want to be an inspiration, to my girls, to women with breast cancer, or any cancer. I want to be ok with how I look if it's not traditionally "female". I'm ok with it all. It's so hard....but after I barfed and came around...I didn't need a wig to feel good...or for adoration, or looks. I just wanted to be OK. To be me.
Real people are so much more appealing. I learned a valuable lesson yesterday. There's no going back. Not after you have a baby, or get your heart broken, or suffer an injury or battle cancer. Celebrate who you are....without any add ons....everyday. That's the real you. The you that you were meant to be... the you that needs love and acceptance.
Madeleine asked me why I took the wig off, I told her "baby, it's just not me anymore....fun to play...but much better to be happy with whatever I see in the mirror. And so much better to just be healthy" SO she took her wig off too. She did neglect to take off the little hairnet that goes under the wig. She said she like the feel of it and it kept the hair out of her face. So she insisted on continuing to wear it. She's ready to rob a 7-11 at a moments notice.
Note Ari photobombing and my mom with hair, pretty much just like the wig I took off. It's tough when your mom actually looks younger than you but I'm getting used to it. I remember when I'd just had Madeleine a lady stopped me in the grocery store when I was shopping with my mom and asked me how long I'd been the nanny. They thought Madeleine was my mom's kid and I was the messy haired nanny. So it's been a long time coming.
Anyway, I'm digressing. My point with all this, especially directed to women who've had cancer - it takes so much. Your hair, your breasts, your sexual desire, your confidence and your strength. In its place it leaves a warrior. A woman who has been though the loss of sexuality in a conventional sense, a woman who has had to reinvent herself. A woman for whom a wig just won't do anymore. A woman who is truly herself. Raw and hurt and battling and real.
There are so many women who don't have disease who want this freedom, but somehow don't feel they deserve it. Break away. Be "ugly" be makeup-less....let that botox expire...be OK with a roll over your jeans.. Just be happy and healthy and yourself.
There's no need to impress anymore. For me, being alive is impressive enough.
So at the end of the day.....I'll likely donate the wigs to the cancer centre, for women who can't afford them.
I'll sit back and I'll just be me.
At the end of the day. The person who needs your approval.....
Is YOU.
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