Haircutting and why not? Since I learned I will be offered the full buffet of cancer treatment, including the ever so favorite called chemotherapy, I decided not to wait and to cut my hair.
I still remember the nurse trying to sell me how not so bad the chemo actually is: “And some women actually keep up to 50% of their hair,” said the nurse cheerfully.
“Wow, you didn’t do a great pitch,” I answered even more cheerfully.
“Well, but when I say hair I mean all of it, including your legs!” Continued the nurse. “Next time you should start with that one. Now, that’s a good selling point,” I told her laughing.
I know the side effects of chemo are actually not that delightful, and the hair loss is actually only temporary and not a big deal, but still it is just another thing in this sucky disease you feel you have no control over. So why not to take the control in your own hands and make out of this a new you?
I realized I came to this situation slightly prepared because of my short hair style when I was teenager, but still . . . . Once I knew I will lose my hair, I started to think about my make up, about the scarfs I will wrap around my head, about the wigs I will buy and about all those big earrings I have and how visible they will suddenly be. I started to browse amazon and found this awesome white wig. Since then, I bought one in black, one in pink and one long hair. I started to feel like five-year-old me playing dress up games. “This is actually awesome,” I started to feel like this whole thing is fun, fun,fun.
My husband was worried about my choices of wigs. He thought that maybe once I start to actually lose my hair, I might start to feel low self-esteem and decided to look for wigs that look nice and more realistic. Thus started one Sunday morning in an orthodox Jewish neighborhood in Brooklyn. We ventured to this closed industry of wig selling businesses. A closed, closed industry for sure. We had to ring a bell to get into a store, go upstairs and then entered a wig kingdom: “We have here all kinds of hair. Brazilian hair is over there, they are cheap. Then we have Asian hair, better quality and the best you can find in this room. European and european virgin hair, unprocessed, they are the best, the softest, look, you can feel the soft hair.” We just looked at each other. A world that stays hidden behind closed doors of an orthodox neighborhood. A world of wigs that I ventured into just because of my cancer.
The actual haircutting we decided to turn into a photoshoot. My husband was the photographer and me and my mum the models. I was so worried how our little guy will take it that I pushed my brother to bring him to watch us. Well, our little guy didn’t even notice. What he noticed was we cut short his Curious George episode and that made him much more upset than any new hairdo of his mum’s.
My head feels light and nice. I love touching it. I want to say that my bathroom morning sessions got shorter but I don’t want to lie. The less time I spent drying my hair the more time I have for makeup. So there is no way that my husband won’t have to wait for me.