"It's definitely thinning on the top," my husband observed this morning. "Not like mine, with a bald patch, but I can see your skin."
By this evening, I could see it too. Not just the receding hair line, but the bits of pink glowing mischievously in the background. And when I swipe my hand though my hair, I am taken aback by its wispiness.
|Hair yesterday, gone today|
"Don't do it, mum!" my older daughter says in alarm every time she sees me doing the let's-see-how-much-I-can-pull-out-this-time thing.
"Noooo, I don't want to see it!" my younger daughter said when I tried to show her the changing landscape of my head via Skype. (She has gone to stay with her godmother in Amsterdam).
For months, I have asserted that I would shave it all off as soon as the first strands made a bid for freedom. I am now well past the first-strand-point, however. My hair is quite literally going down the drain, so it looks as if I have changed my mind.
I reserve the right to change my mind about things.
Perhaps it is the precedent set by Denise. Denise changed me from someone who was convinced she would Never Wear A Wig to someone who Might Actually Wear A Wig Sometimes (especially after several friends, having read my previous blog post, were rather supportive of Denise - thank you kindly. One of them, who saw a photograph of Denise and me on Facebook, didn't even spot her - she commented that I am looking good in my new coat and will surely look good in a wig too).
But back to my own hair.
The reasons for not wishing to shave quite yet, I have decided, are multifold.
One: An appointment at Hair Today and an appointment at Gone Today is just too much in one week. Perhaps it's better to go bald gradually, rather than all at once.
Two: Moulting like a shaggy dog is not as much of a housekeeping problem as I'd thought. As long as I remember to wear a hat when cooking (as I discovered to my cost at dinner time). I've also taken to wearing a garment called a Chemo Sleeping Cap at night, to avoid hairs-on-the-pillow-syndrome.
|The Chemo Sleep Cap|
(not out of place in a flower power swimming pool)
Three: I don't actually mind the thinning hair. In fact it seems as if I don't really mind the impending baldness any more either (although I reserve the right to change my mind about that too). Rather then being distressed, I am intrigued by the process.
I'm not sure what I expected, but I think my imagination involved tufts coming out in one go, leaving me with a patchwork of bald spots. In reality, there is the aforementioned receding hairline and thinning process.
I am like a schoolchild whose tongue is drawn like a magnet to the new gap in her mouth. My fingers keep plucking the different hairy bits, just to check. What is going, what is not?
For the record: eyebrows and eyelashes are reasonably firmly attached. Legs are beginning to give in, very reluctantly (I've grown my leg hair for scientific reasons. As I said, I'm intrigued.) No sign of surrender on my arms. Will they too end up smooth as a baby's bottom? We'll see.
I think I'll leave the shaving until it starts to look ridiculous.
Which could be very soon, the rate things are going.
|The hat meant to prevent Dandelion Syndrome|
In the meantime, I'll just wear a hat when I'm going for breezy walks, lest I resemble a dandelion on a blustery hill top, its seed heads gone with the wind.