Today has been a bad day. I woke up not feeling in the best mood; not angry or upset, just a bit on the blah side. I followed the normal morning routine: make lunch, make/eat breakfast, relax while watching television. Suddenly, I was overcome with an incredible sadness and frustration. Sobbing uncontrollably, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I can change the way I eat, I can change my weight, my attitude, my job, my clothes, almost everything. The one thing about myself that I cannot change? No matter what I do, I will never be able to regrow my hair. It made all the rest of it seem somewhat pointless. No matter how athletic I become, I will always be bald.
Most days, I'm ok with the fact that I don't have hair (or, more accurately, a lot less than I used to). Every once in a while, I feel a bit sad and sorry for myself but I get over it and life goes on. Today, I had to leave work because I was on the verge of tears more than once during the morning. Thankfully it was a slow morning and my boss was away so I could just send him a quick email saying I wasn't well and that I was going home. I told my two closest work buddies (T&A) about how I was feeling without breaking down but as soon as they left, the tears welled up again. Then, T was incredibly sweet and drew me one of her wonderful cartoon cats and left it on my desk. I smiled but got teary eyed once more.
There are worse things that I could be experiencing. I could lose a limb or my sight; I could have a horrible scar or birthmark that covers my face; I could have chronically bad breath or body odor (ok, not terrible but still bad!). At least I have the option of wearing a wig.
However, I'm constantly aware of the fact that its not real and whether or not I'm wearing it. If its windy, I have to have a coat with a hood (regardless of how hot it is outside); I can't ride a motorbike - what do I do when I get to where I'm going and have to take my helmet off? I can't wear my wig while doing anything that requires any exertion on my part. I sweat a lot as it is, wigs make it even worse. And what happens if I get involved with someone? When do you tell them? Sure, I'm adorable with my wig on but who wants to roll over and stare at the back of a big fat stubbly bald noggin? They can't run their fingers through my wig - they'll get their hands stuck or will pull off my hair. As soon as I get home, I take my wig off and free my head from the confines of elastic, velcro and faux hair. It would take a special someone to put up with me normally; it would take a super duper special someone to accept the hairless moi.
So many little things that most people don't think about but that I'm forced to confront over and over each and every day. And days like today just make me cry.
Bald should be beautiful but sometimes its not.