February 18, 2017 – From Hair to There
If I were a roast or loaf of banana bread or any other baked good or savory dish in the oven, I’d say … “Put a fork in me-I’m DONE!” But I’m none of those things … not a stew nor a baked dish. Too bad.
This (lack of) hair experiment has me pulling out my (proverbial) hair! Yes, it is beyond my control as to how fast or slowly it grows in/out. And, yes, that was part of this challenge to myself – to grasp the lack of control. And, because I’m a quasi control freak, this was to be a good exercise in patience and acceptance, understanding and empathy. And a life experience. Yes, I get it.
But I’m DONE. I just want my hair back!
Remember seeing (or having) that one child in Target who was having the hissy fit of all temper tantrums in the toy department? I’m that child.
I’m done. D.O.N.E.
Come on hair – get with the program – grow like Rapunzel’s golden glory! Grow like Tressy’s auburn mane! Haven’t the slightest clue who Rapunzel is? Go read some fairy tales (for god’s sake!). Don’t know who Tressy is, either? Read on.
When I was 7 I wanted a Tressy doll for Christmas. She was the IT item of the year for me. No ballerina tutu or fun game for me … I pined for that doll. I’m pretty sure I broke out into a sweat when thinking about her as a possible gift from Santa! I think I folded a lot of extra laundry those days just to stay on the “nice” list to insure my odds!
And, alas, Christmas morning revealed NO Tressy from Santa. But, hark! That afternoon, I opened a box from my grandparents and there she was … Tressy … in all her hair splendor. Tressy was a bustier version of Barbie (if that is even possible) but a tiny bit larger so that when you used Barbie’s clothing on her, the fit was a little tight – think Junior Hooker in the making. She had really pretty eyes and gorgeous reddish-brown hair. And that was the kicker … her hair. You could change the length! Talk about nirvana for girls who loved styling hair!
To achieve the length change, she had a key slot in her back and a round (rather large) belly button on her stomach. At the top of her head there was a pony tail. Now, when you pushed in the button, you could pull on the pony tail and more hair would come out (at full length, the pony tail was almost to her ankles!)! And if you turned the key in her back the hair would magically wind back down into her head (and I’m assuming body) so that she had a short “do”, once again. It was FABULOUS! She was the BEST ever!
I can’t tell you how many hours I played with that doll. Her ensemble included brushes and combs, curlers and little hair toys and jewels … it was a hair-enthusiasts dream doll! (And, I imagine, a vacuum cleaner’s nightmare! I wonder how many of those little curlers got sucked up over time?!)
Getting her was great and almost as good as getting one of those beauty school doll heads that you could put curlers on and put under a toy hair dryer hood. I always wanted one of those but never asked for one. I think I was a bit creeped out over a bodiless doll head! In any case, I loved that doll! I was such a hair-nut, it makes me wonder why I never went to beauty school or did anything with hair!
So, yes, I now wish I were Tressy or Rapunzel or anyone else who has more hair than I do at this given moment! I’m done with this experiment. I want life as it used to be. I guess I’m not that great with the reality of lack of control at times.
I remember feeling that way after Tim (my husband) died … it had been months and I remember standing in our closet, my things had taken over the space which once housed his clothing (as I’d removed most of his things) and I remember saying, “OK, come back! This test sucked. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m DONE!”
How wonderful that would have been – to have the ability to blink my eyes or wave a magic wand and make that happen. (Though I had the awful feeling that if that happened, he would have been really upset with me for getting rid of his stuff!) But that’s not reality. Sometimes reality sucks.
And so, here I am today, thinking similar thoughts … “I don’t like this. This challenge is dumb and going to take far too long. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m DONE!” Reality is looking back at me in the mirror with a head full of 1/4″ – 1/2″ hair spikes and I have no choice or control over the matter … once again, I have no magical ability to change things.
I’m in this for the long haul! It is what it is and my hair will grow back in whatever time it takes … and I have to get a grip on the fact that it could be a really long time! Accept it!
And it’s when I look in the mirror and tell myself to accept it and to “get over it”, that I laugh at my ridiculousness over this HEAD. I know that I’m healthy and the hair will grow back and I shouldn’t make such a big, damn deal about it and that it’s okay and just go on with life and ignore the big, round, fat head …
BUT … then I have that wave wash over me … the one that sneaks up from time to time and makes me feel less like myself. The wave that strips my confidence and power and femininity.
And makes me feel so ugly.
Not bald, not short hair – I’m somewhere in between and I feel (still) so naked. Vulnerable. I don’t like it. I don’t want to say that there is a certain security factor or feeling of having hair … but there kind of is. I don’t want to say I hide behind it – but I feel so bare without anything there. Raw. Naked. Fat. Hair has a certain comfort factor and without it it’s like being in one of those dreams where you forget to wear your underwear in public (or in my case, a skirt too short that I have to go up steps sideways). It’s NOT a good feeling.
And as hard as it is at times, I did this to MYSELF! I wanted this! I just can’t imagine dealing with this hair (lack of/slowly growing/oddly growing) while also being sick and having this happen due to meds. It makes me think that hospitals and care facilities NEED (just not should) provide some sort of classes for people who lose their hair to illness or treatments. It is such a mentally difficult thing that I just have to imagine that the depressed psyche would somehow impede the healing process. Why isn’t a class on “inner beauty” and acceptance and gaining confidence in one’s new look a reality for people who lose their hair?
It’s been 6 weeks now (a bit more) and I’ve gone from naked chicken skin (which truly was disgustingly gross) to baby peach fuzz to feeling like a chia pet to Curly from the Three Stooges to militant spikes to … what I’m now calling this … the Awkward Stage. My hair is now, as I said, about 1/2″ in length … well, in spots! Some hair is 1/4″ and some somewhere in between those lengths! I’ve got a lot of scalp going on – but that was a “thing” when I had a full head of hair. I must be follicle-ly challenged as I’m sure they are farther apart than is deemed normal.
In any case, I’ve got sparseness going on on the left side with some weird cowlick thing going on over the left temple. There is a silver circle over my right temple – that from afar looks like a bald spot. (Lovely, I know!) There is a huge (as in golf ball sized) swirling circular cowlick going on at the top of the back of my head … I’m calling it Hurricane Leslie. (It’s disgusting.) The top of my head has an arete of darkness which makes me feel akin to a Rhodesian Ridgeback. The only place my hair is actually growing with any consistency or length or without problem is at the base of my neck and that is just GROSS! I’ve got this Poindexter “do” going on with these longer wisps … like some wayward carny with a very bad mullet in the making.
So, you get the gist of this. I’m DONE. Or at least I want to be. I miss my hair. I want to get out a curling iron and some barrettes! (And at the rate my hair is growing – I’ll be waiting to do that for at least a year … or two!)
For someone who really likes hair – this really was a rough (dare I say stupid?) challenge. Yes, I’ll say I’m at the place where I’ll call it stupid (and that’s just because I want my hair back – NOW!) … but I know months from now that there will be redemption and I will appreciate this journey and gain insight and understanding and some really awful photos that I can finally show my kids.
I know all that and I know my hair will grow back … someday.
But for now … put a fork in me cuz I’m done!