June 18, 2010
There. I did it.
This picture shows me one month after I finished chemo. Peach fuzz growing. Eyebrows gone. Eyelashes gone. Both pencilled in to hide their absence.
This is the only picture I have of myself bald. When I was a shiny cue ball it never occurred to me to document it. If you look closely at my left eye, you’ll see a tear resting on my lower lid. I had just stopped crying. Long enough to put on makeup and flash that killer smile. I was just about to get my tissue expanders out and have my silicone implants put in. It was right before my 38th birthday. That’s what I told my plastic surgeon I wanted for my birthday– to be done with that next phase of my reconstruction.
It was hard to go in for that particular surgery at that particular time in my treatment regimen. When the staff came to wheel me in I had to remove my scarf. My surgeon hadn’t seen me bald. The nurses, my father, my doctor… all of them saw my head then. Of course it was run of the mill for them. They saw cancer patients all the time. But for me it was another way my dignity, my identity, my humanity were being stripped from me. I donned the fabric shower cap gladly, happy to have something (albeit flimsy) to conceal my naked head.
Only moments before, I stood in the bathroom with my plastic surgeon while he marked my body once more with his ubiquitous purple Sharpie pen. We talked again about final details of my breasts. I realized how these conversations had become so routine between us. While the subject of my breasts was no longer one that even caused a pause in chatter for us, I didn’t want him to see my head. Somehow it was more personal, more private, more embarrassing to me than the fact that he not only saw, but touched, drew on, and even photographed my breasts on a regular basis during reconstruction. Those interactions were scripted. Defined. But my head? I hadn’t realized he was going to see that. And there was embarrassment there. It wasn’t happening on my terms.
So today I am taking control and doing it on my terms. When Melissa Etheridge performed bald at the Grammys in 2005 (before I was even diagnosed) I remember thinking, “She is strong. She is real. She is brave. She is beautiful.” What she did in that moment was important. I bet it was liberating to her. So I’m going to try it. It’s too late for me to try it in reality (and I don’t want to pull a Britney Spears and shave my new hair off to be bald again).
Today1 is the 2 year anniversary of the day I finished chemo. So, in celebration, I’m taking off my metaphorical scarf. I’m going bald here today. I want to see how it feels.
- June 18, 2010 [↩]
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Good for you! I completely totally understand what you have written. I put up my ‘baldie’ pic on my website (and subsequently on twitter). At first it was really hard to look at it. But now I look at it more and more and I actually don’t mind seeing it. When I was bald, others got used to it more than I did because I hardly ever looked at myself in the mirror. Now I have my hair back, I can look at me bald again. I don’t think I could ‘shave for a cure’ in the near future, but it’s liberating to put it up there – and encouraging for other baldies. I did track my hair regrowth and put it on my website. So many others asked me how long before it grew back that I put the pics up to document it… (http://www.hatiheri.com/hatiheri-herself/hair-regrowth-photos) All the best and congratulations on 2 years!
You looked beautiful bald. I was just thinking the other day how glad I am that you kept your hair so short once it came back in too. Bald or with hair, you are stunning.
Thank you for this one. You are beautiful. <3
That is a great photo of you. You are strong, and very brave.
You are touching and changing lives with your blog, your honesty, your bravery, and your beauty.
YOU are BEAUTIFUL !!!!! OMG, all the hair ( or lack of it) on this planet can NOT take away how absolutely drop dead gorgeous you are. Then to have honor and privilege of reading your stories and your strength it makes perfect sense. Remember when you parents would say beauty comes from the inside out? You are proof !
Did you see this article today?
http://www.buzzfeed.com/melismashable/miss-america-bald-is-the-next-beautiful
Damn, girl, you look better bald than most of us look fully coiffed! Since I have melanoma & chemo doesn’t work for that, the full temporary bald head is (hopefully) not in my future. The initial site of the disease was, however, on my scalp and it was a doozy, requiring a skin graft right at the crown of my head, the size of a demitasse cup saucer. That’s THIGH skin up there now – ain’t nothin’ ever gonna grow on it. So I wear my ponytail, or my pricey little hair-system that clips in, and thank the good Lord that I’m still so much better off than others. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself. You inspire me.
you are beautiful, in every way possible.