Posted in Living with cancer

Hair today, gone tomorrow…

I’m sorry. I had go with a lame, hair loss related pun as the title because starting off with a lame hair loss related pun is THE LAW according to WeeGee today, okay?

Just over six weeks ago I was busy getting my hair cut. Here’s the thing: I don’t like getting my hair cut. I’ve never liked getting my hair cut because it’s weird letting a stranger touch your scalp AND because it’s also weird letting a stranger take a pair or scissors anywhere near your face AND because small talk is crappy enough without being forced to do it with a stranger who is touching your scalp and snapping a pair of scissors right in your face AT THE SAME TIME. But social norms and, to some extent my own vanity, dictate that I get regular hair cuts so, six weeks ago I was sitting in Toni and Guy in Harborough town centre getting tortured my hair cut.

hair cut

It was a fairly memorable haircut, as far as haircuts go. Just the day before, we’d had confirmation that the lump in my breast was very definitely not harmless and I sat there with the world crashing down around me wondering if really gave a flying fuck whether she took a smidge more off my fringe now or waited until it was dry….

At the time, I didn’t realise how fast things were going to move. I was expecting my treatment to start in the New Year, for one thing, and although I knew there was a fair chance I was going to lose my hair it was a dim and distant prospect that I didn’t really have the brain capacity to think about it. In short, I thought I had at least one more hair cut in me before I had to face up to being a baldy for a bit.

Reader, I was wrong.

My treatment started much sooner than we first thought, and – despite plenty of re-assurances that EC chemotherapy usually takes your hair after the second cycle – 14 days after my first dose my hair gave up the ghost and started falling out. BY THE HANDFUL.

You’d think having your hair fall out by the handful would be pretty traumatic and I expect for lots of people it is incredibly traumatic but for me, it just didn’t feel like that at all – in some ways, the sensation was so foreign it was a source of fascination. And besides, I think I’d had long enough to come to terms with the fact it was going to happen and had been been able to frame it as a ‘small price to pay’ in the main scheme of things. When it actually, for real happened, I approached it like I’ve approached pretty much everything else about my diagnosis and treatment – just another thing that needed to be dealt with. And so, with a little help from Mr Awesome Thing Number Five, I dealt with it and shaved the whole lot off in a ‘well fuck it, I might as well jump before I’m pushed’ kind of a way*

Shout out, of course, to the aforementioned, long suffering and ever patient Mr Awesome Thing Number Five who didn’t so much as bat an eyelid when I told him that our plans for the evening included shaving my hair off. There have been lots of times in the past few months I’ve been struck by how lucky I am to have chosen the right person, but none more than when sitting in our kitchen, wrapped in a shower curtain, with only half a head of hair left wondering out loud if ‘it was too late to change my mind…..’

gl cg haircut
Choose your people carefully. One day, you might need to let them loose on your noggin with a set of clippers……

It’s the strangest thing, having no hair for the first time since you were a baby and it does take a bit of getting used to, not least when you find yourself looking at a TOTAL STRANGER in the mirror first thing. That said, aside from finding it impossible to regulate my temperature, I’m living with being a baldy quite comfortably enough, thank you very much. I suppose I’m helped by the fact that my skull is a reasonably normal and neat shape, my eyebrows and (most of) my eyelashes are hanging on in there like the tiny hairy warriors they are**, I’ve got a decent wig and I quite suit a hat. Most of the time, I look pretty much like myself although every once in a while I do look scarily like my (very definitely baldy) dad.

baldy gail
She’s a baldy. She’s a baldy. She’s a baldy. (only people who REALLY know me are allowed to chant this at me…..)

I don’t want to underplay it. I know for some women, and indeed men, the hairloss side of chemotherapy is gut wrenchingly awful and I understand how it might come to feel like insult added to injury. Personally, I found the grit to park it in the ‘stuff that’s going to happen whether I like it or not’ bay and move on. I’ve long since thought you need to pick your battles in life and right now, with everything I’ve got to face up to, railing against the universe because my hair went and fell out isn’t something I’ve got the time or energy for.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

As usual, I’ll leave you with a song – an old one and a good one, for old times and for good times sake… It’s been my ear worm for days since the veritable Shaun Keavney played it on the wireless radio one afternoon….


Catch up soon. Love you all lots, like Jelly Tots,

WeeGee xoxoxo



*Traditionally, all major decisions in WeeGee land have been preceded by the words ‘fuck it’ and it turns out cancer isn’t going to change any of that.

**The less said about my remaining, unmentioned and unmentionable hair the better. It’s an actual real life mystery what happened to that….


4 thoughts on “Hair today, gone tomorrow…

  1. Not to bypass the thrust of your post, but you totally nailed the social/personal fiasco that is the haircut. And not to shrug off the tenor of your post, but, who needs hair?

  2. I think you now have the right to make any and all LAWS. Mr Awesome Thing Number Five truly is awesome, and not to be weird or anything but you are gorgeous bald.

    Thinking of you every day.


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