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BLOG FORMERLY KNOWN AS: I HAD A MIND ONCE

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Hair Today, Bald Tomorrow (and a photo tribute to my hair)


Yes, the hair is gone. And I have to say that losing my hair was the most emotional part of this whole experience so far. My hair started falling out exactly a week ago, a few hours after I had a wonderful massage by a young woman who upon my request (because who doesn't love a head massage?!) spent some time kneading my scalp and running her fingers through my hair. I shudder to think what her hands may have looked like when she finished.

When I went home and showered, I noticed even more excessive hair strands than usual all around the bath tub. Still, I wasn't sure. But by Saturday, I knew. I began wearing a hat on my head as I could no longer control what my hair looked like and because I thought it might keep the remaining pieces in longer. Although I was feeling freakish ( I don't think I actually looked freakish, but this experience of having your hair take leave of your head after 44 years is quite unsettling), I managed to join my family at the Harlem Globetrotters show and take the boys to a birthday party. By Sunday, I felt simply too freakish to leave the house and completely overwhelmed. Some friends suggested a while back that I watch the TV show Parenthood, so I sought out the episode where the mother who has breast cancer shaves her hair after it starts falling out. I cried along with her through the process. Then I felt empowered along with her when she dolls herself up with a wig, and then again when she decides the wig is not for her and walks around bald.

When the show ended, I went to the bathroom and picked up my husband's electric razor. I managed to shave one tiny patch of hair off. Right in the front. Nice move, Amy. I didn't have the heart to shave the rest, so I put my hat back on. Monday morning, I asked my husband Ben to come home and shave my head after he dropped off the boys off at school. He did, and we made it as far as me standing in the bathtub, Ben holding the razor and telling me he "didn't really feel comfortable doing this." Which I totally get. So, between my discomfort and his, we cancelled the shaving event, and I remained a recluse on Monday, drowning in my sorrow and the hair that was falling everywhere.

I have been fortunate to have many saviors , sometimes knowingly and others unknowingly, rescue me at just right the moment during this process. On Tuesday, my friend Rachel was my savior (she'll cringe at the word if she's reading this. We are typically sarcastic and obnoxious with each other). But seriously. She came over and shaved my head. She had never shaved anyone's head before. She made me laugh throughout, and immediately told me I had a nice shaped head (I was afraid I might discover a more alien-shaped head underneath, not that I'm an alien but sort of like the actress in Parenthood....) as soon as the hair was gone. She took me out to lunch and, before she left and while aware she was running late to pick up her kids from school, she stayed around long enough to buy me my wig. I can not tell you how much her help saved me this week.

When I imagined losing my hair several weeks ago, I thought no big deal.  But I was wrong. Maybe it's about the vanity. Partly. But it's more than that. I think it's also about the feeling of losing control. And of saying goodbye and mourning a mane that has been part of you, a partner in everything if you will, your whole life. I have both loved and hated my hair throughout the years. I have spent hours and decades trying to wrestle my thick waves  into straight shiny submission with blow dryers and expensive hair products. Unlike  my feelings about losing my breast, which I wrote about here, this has been really hard. I know it will grow back. I know it may or may not be the same. But I think my hair deserves a loving goodbye tribute like the one I share with you below.




I highly suggest you play this Kenny Rogers song in the background as it will add greatly to your emotional experience. Enjoy.


bald and beautiful babe

The Carol Brady
Samantha from Charlie's Angels

The Dorothy Hamill (I bet you had this too if you're over 40)
Best hair day eva...8th grade. Look at those feathers!
Sleepaway camp. This is my true hair,
and a curious picture. Look closely at the pic behind
Snoopy and Ralph the Dog
Another sleep away picture.
Yesterday was my mom's birthday.
she died from ovarian cancer in 2002.
The day before, on the 9th, was my dad's birthday.
So this is simply a tribute to my awesome parents, who gave me my hair.


That's the end of the retrospective. If you want to see my lovely eighties hair, there's a video here.

Now, for what you've really all been waiting for, the temporary new me.

bald.


And below, with my new wig, which is actually the kind of hair I've always aspired to have. Jonas wore it like a rock star last night. When he dropped it on the floor as though it was his dirty laundry, I screamed "That's my $350 hair! Pick it up!" No doubt that one will make it into Ethan's memoirs.





14 comments:

  1. What Daniel said. :) Thinking of you always! xoxoxo

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  2. Wow, Amy - so brave and so honest. After seeing you sans-hair my eyes scanned to the last pic and I thought it was a "before" photo - that is one extremely realistic looking wig! A good friend of mine who went through a similar experience (and has now been cancer free for 8 years)had a love/hate relationship with her wig, complaining that while it looked great, it was hot and itchy. Hope they've improved since then. Hang in there, girl.

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  3. Way to keep your strength and humor Amy. Keeping you in our thoughts and prayers for a full recovery and looking for to the sequel of hair.

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  4. Bald and beautiful - bewigged and beautiful -- see you tomorrow with a bevy of bald buddhas in concrete to laugh with you. xo

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  5. I'm sure this is not what you want to read- but I'm just gonna put it out there and say, I think you look good bald! You have a nice round head, pretty eyes, great teeth. I think wig or no wig, it looks good. Hang in there, you have friends all over supporting you. xo

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    Replies
    1. Any compliment is welcome so thank you! And thx for reading.

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  6. Amy, you are the BLBB (best-looking bald babe) I've ever seen. And the wig looks good, too. So, go with your mood.
    Pat

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  7. Amy, you are the BLBB (best-looking bald babe) I've ever seen. And the wig looks good, too. Can't go wrong either way.
    Pat (McT)

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  8. Beautiful! Wig or no wig. Glad you are hanging in there and sending hugs.

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  9. You are rocking that without hair look! You are rocking the wig too!

    :)
    Barbara


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  10. That is a pretty awesome wig, but you also look really good bald! When I think about shaving my hair off, I am always reminded of that Shel Silverstein poem about the guy who thought he had wavy hair until he shaved it off and to his horror found out he had a wavy head.

    Last week I found out I am losing my hair (genetics or stress) so wigs may also be in my future. Maybe we can start a lending library of wigs. So if you wake up one morning and feel like being a blonde, you can borrow a Marilyn wig. Want to switch to a severe librarian look on Tuesday? That can be arranged! Your options for immediate hair gratification have opened wide up!

    Joking aside, we're all thinking of you and missing you in group. Can't wait for you to get back...with or without your brand spankin' new hair.

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  11. Well done, Amy. Losing your hair is a traumatic event, and you are handling it with class.

    Like you, I have always had a difficult relationship with my hair. Back in the '70s, my father purchased a home hair cutting system that consisted of a pair of scissors, an electric razor and what I can only imagine were instructions written entirely in Korean. As a result, my brothers and I spent the majority of that decade alternating between looking like wolf attack survivors from an Eastern bloc country and Andy Warhol after a high school shop class mishap.

    Things didn't improve with time. After consulting with many stylists, including the cousin of a guy whose sister was friends with the neighbor of a guy who used to hang out with a guy who cut Vidal Sassoon's mother's lawn, I was informed that my hair would conform to only one design: Malibu Ken with ennui (which actually sounds better than it looks). In addition, any amount of wind easily disrupt whatever form of semi-coherent combing job I am capable of, leaving me with the appearance of someone who had just been mugged or rolled for their wallet (let me tell you, years and years of people greeting you with a shocked "My God, are you okay?" eventually begin to wear down a man's sense of self esteem).

    And yet, now that my hair is in its waning days, I feel great nostalgia for it. Not enough to go back and look at childhood photos, of course (see traumatic memory above), but still, I'm going to miss it.

    I have no idea what shape my eventually bald head will be. But I take great comfort in the fact that your head turned out to be normal shaped and that you look great (some people may tell you that you look like a young Sinead O'Connor, but I see more of a Ève Salvail thing going on there ((minus the dragon skull tattoo, of course)).

    And, as you know, your hair, along with your health, will soon return. And though you may appreciate it more than you did in the past, I hope that you'll also hold a special place in your heart for the bald you. As hard as it may be to see right now, that look says more about your strength, character and beauty than any expensive haircut ever could.

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