My Everything
I want you to imagine the thing that gives you your edge, the confidence to walk into a room, to talk to that man or to take that sexy photo. Think about how long it took you to feel comfortable with your confidence, your body image and your sex appeal in those situations. Now imagine your life without that thing that makes you feel like you. The thing that is intrinsically part of your identity and gives you the underlying confidence to move through each day. Imagine that it didn’t just disappear— someone took it from you. Abruptly. Without your consent. Ripped it from your grip so quickly you couldn’t breathe. Crushing you so deeply you suddenly can’t walk into that room, can’t take that photo, can’t look into that mirror. After so many years of building up the ability to be confident in any less than comfortable setting, you are struck down to a place so dark you wonder if you will ever find your way out.
I’ve never wanted short hair. Never been the girl to go crazy with her hairstyles. I’m not into flashy scarves, bright lipstick (any lipstick for that matter) or big earrings. I have always been the girl with the great hair. My hair was once referred to as Disney princess hair and been the envy of many of the people around me. Always so simple, flowing and effortless. To me, that is exactly what it was. Effortless beauty. It brought confidence— in an invisible cloak type way. I could hide behind it when I was feeling introverted, but also step out into the spotlight and shine with it.
It is a simple hair flip when I walked into a room.
The way a man would gently move it from my face on a date.
What seemed like an ever present extension of who I was... suddenly carried more weight, feeling like it was my everything.
It started exactly 2 weeks to the hour after my first and only dose of chemo. I had already cut my hair to shoulder length to prepare. There was still a level of hope that it wouldn’t completely fall out. After all, I only received a 25 percent dose of chemo and a friend of mine only had gradual hair loss. Day 13, I was hair flipping my way through the day with a smile on my face. Day 14 I woke up to a pillow full of hair and tears in my eyes. It was gradual at first and wasn’t coming out in clumps— gradual enough to still have a little hope. Every morning I woke up to more and more hair on my pillow. I would immediately start to cry each morning upon opening my eyes. I cleaned my pillow off, made my way to the bathroom and routinely combed gently through my hair to clean up the loose strands while tears streamed down my face. The mixture of hair and tears in my bathroom sink grew with each passing day. Everywhere I went it would be all over everything— my clothes, the car, other people.
All I wanted was my hair for my birthday. My 36th birthday on April 21st. I wanted to be able to take photos with my friends. I wanted to laugh and smile without feeling like I was faking my confidence. Pretending to be me. I stopped washing it as it only made it fall out more. I switched to soft scrunchies to always keep it up to slow down the loss. I propped myself up with pillows around me at night so I wouldn’t toss and turn in fear of a worse morning than the one before. You will be happy to know, I made it. I am lucky to have had a lot of hair and it held on for dear life. My birthday weekend was not without those familiar morning tears but my wish came true. I had hair for my birthday.
When I returned from my relaxing and heart filled birthday weekend on Pender Island, anger started seeping into my being. I was angry at cancer for taking away the strength in my smile and the confidence I spent years building up. It started to control me in a way that I was not ok with. I am, for better or worse, a woman of control. It was time I flipped that bitch cancer crying into the valley while I stood on top of that mountain smiling confidently. At that moment, only one person popped into my head. There is no better human in my life to help me take back control than my dear friend, Crystal. She is one of the first new friends I made when I moved to Vancouver 4 years ago. I have always admired her authenticity. She demands the world see her for the bold and astonishing woman she is. When you are with her you will never fail to have an extreme smile on your face— followed by intense laughter. Reluctant at first, she confirmed a couple times I was serious about shaving what was left of my Disney princess hair. After a quick tutorial from her husband on using the razor, she told me to put on my favourite dress (bought in a happy time in Mexico Nov 2017) and do my makeup. If we were going to do this it was going to be spectacular! She showed up to my house with a razor in one hand, flowers (for the salon) in the other and dressed in her best hairdresser outfit. I selected a playlist. We did two shots of tequila to calm our nerves and got to work.
Please watch the video below so you can be a part of one of the moments in my life where I took back control. Control of sliding deeper and deeper into that black hole I thought I’d never have the strength to climb out of. I myself was unable to watch this video fully until right before I wrote this paragraph. As I watch through my tears, I know that they are no longer tears of sadness but tears of healing and pride. Unfortunately due to the sweet playlist we were listening to, YouTube wouldn’t let me upload with sound.
How are we doing folks? Deep breathes. We have a bit more to go. Stay with me and know how grateful I am for you and your commitment in being a part of this with me.
What happened next was exactly what Crystal had planned for.
It was spectacular!
My face started to light up the more hair fell to the floor. In the pictures below you can see my progression from sadness to joy. It all happened in a matter of minutes. People ask me all the time what it felt like to shave my head. My answer— terrifyingly freeing. Crystal finished, getting as close to my scalp as possible while still fearing she may cut me. I knew I was in good hands the entire time. We had a photo shoot, of course. It was now time for celebration! Hell, you would celebrate too if you were as pleasantly surprised as we were about how nicely shaped my head was. I had a bottle of bubbles in my fridge. It had been in there for at least a year. I believe someone bought it for me for my birthday in 2017 (if you are that person please let me know). What I’m going to say next you may not believe. I kid you not, it is true. You can’t make this stuff up. I pulled the bottle out of the refrigerator, inspected it and to my surprise the name of the damn thing— Confidence.
I’d be lying if I said it was all rainbows and sunshine since that night. There isn’t really a day that goes by that I don’t think of my long, luscious locks. My biggest annoyance is when people tell me “it’s just hair”, “it will grow back”. Yes, it will, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I still have to look myself in the mirror every day and go through the self-talk to get through another glimpse. Much of the time the image of me with short hair only brings back the memories of my long hair. Now that the seasons have changed I’m wearing the clothes I wore earlier this year again. The reminder is constant and all over my winter apparel.
The scarf phase was not without its challenges to overcome. Have you ever tried to tie a silk scarf around a slippery bald head? Not as easy as one may think. Many people think it is fun to wear flashy scarves, big earrings, and bright lipstick. I think it made me look like a gypsy. All I wanted was to look like me. There were many times in the beginning I cried and threw tantrums like I did when it was falling out. There is definitely a confidence that grows with each phase, though. I embraced the scarfs, purchased some faves and really had no choice to wear them because it was summer and my head would burn in the sun. Once I got my wig (her name is Harriet, by the way) I used the scarfs less and less. Once my hair started to grow and thicken I started wearing my wig less and less. Every step of this specific journey there were internal obstacles I had to overcome. At times I feel like losing my hair was worse than finding out I had cancer. Bold statement, I know. But honestly how I felt on some of the darker days where the visible nature of my appearance change made this unexpected life shift so much more real. I can feel my confidence in my physical appearance strengthening with each passing day and each inch of hair growth. I know I’m beautiful. This experience has altered and deepened the meaning of the word for me. Not one thing can give you strength and confidence— it is an ever growing, ever changing holistic mixture of your triumphs and struggles with a sprinkle of what you see in the mirror every day. I have decided to embrace this new badass, rockstar look but it is just a stepping stone to getting some length back. Maybe I’ll change my mind along the way— I doubt it but I appreciate you all cheering for me along the way.
Take a look below at some the progression from length and loss to badass short and chic. Oh and I’m into big hoop earrings now!
