I have the thickest, longest, softer red hair you can ever imagine.
And here I was today, meeting a woman to show me all kind of different wigs to replace my hair once I will be bald like a baby’s butt. I spent the evening looking at all the different options, I found one made of real hair that were almost as thick as mine and well I have to say it was amazing, beautiful.
All my friends feel the urge to tell me that no one will notice, that my hair will grow back, even better, and I am here telling myself the same, that is such an opportunity to try something different, something I would have never dared of. I am telling myself that I had cancer twice before 30 and twice I was so, oh so, lucky to find it out in time, before it was spread in some crazy place and eventually kill me. So I should not complain about something so vain like my hair.
Point is, I am my hair. Or, well, I was my hair. I have to figure it out.
What will I’ll be now ? I know it’s gonna be liberating to some degree, I will probably be myself and not my hair anymore. Eventually I will feel like that, mostly because I don’t really have a choice. And maybe chemo will make me feel so bad that I will really not give a s*it about the rest. I don’t know, cause I still have to wait. Waiting is the worst.
so today I shopped for wigs and problem solved. to everyone. everyone except me.
” the wound is the place where the light enters you – Rumi ”