Hair today...

Today I had an experience I wasn't expecting. It has to do with my hair. Now, I have an interesting relationship with my hair. Throughout my life, whenever I felt a bit bored or wanted to change things, I'd dye my hair. It's been red, pink, mahogany, even blue, and I'm naturally a kind of muddy blonde. I've worn it long, bobbed, with a fringe (bangs for the Americans among you), centre parting, side parting, cropped: basically all of the styles! When I went travelling in 2014 I'd dyed it brown, but of course by October that year I was bored and so my mum and I bought some strong peroxide off a dodgy hairdresser in Corfu and bleached out the brown (it's a minor miracle I still have a scalp!). When I moved to London I had naff bleached hair and needed to sort it, to look respectable for work and feel good about myself. It's surprising how much one's hair contributes to one's image, and self-worth. So I found an amazing hairdresser at a salon in Soho, called Veronika, and we've been working on the 'project' of my hair together ever since.

Pink hair!

Hair hat

Brunette

Long and yellow (and the real throne!)

Red bob

Messy crop

Long red (idiot teen)

Long bob, pretty much where we are now.

Over the last couple of years, I've seen Veronika fairly regularly, and she's been putting low-lights and highlights in my hair until all the bleach grows out, and it's now almost all my natural colour, with a few highlights. It feels much healthier and I really love it.

Today I went to get my fringe trimmed (which I tend to do between haircuts) and when she was done, I held Veronika's hands in mine and said, 'You probably won't be seeing me for a while, as I won't have any hair for you to cut', and then I unexpectedly burst into tears. I felt so silly, crying in the hairdressers, and poor Veronika was totally shocked. But you see, when you visit your hairdresser every couple of months for a few years, you develop a relationship with them. Veronika and I chat away for a few hours when I am there. I know lots about her and her partner, their travels, her family. She knows a lot about me. She even knew I was getting married before my mum did! (I eloped last year, and when I went to her for my pre-wedding hair cut I couldn't help but spill the beans: she was so excited for me!). And now that we've just got to a stage where I'm really happy with my hair, I'm probably going to lose it all and have to start again. And I'll miss visiting her, and catching up. Anyway, I wiped my eyes, scribbled out my blog link to her and said goodbye. Hopefully, after chemo, when I have a little crop of hair (maybe around Christmas?) I can go and visit her again, and we can start our new hair 'project' together.

I think it made me realise that some things are going to upset me along this journey, and they might not be the things I expect. Here I am, being all flippant about losing my hair, buying wigs, wearing scarves, but really I think it will be difficult to maintain a sense of my identity without my hair. As much as I'd like to think I'm not 'shallow' enough for my hair to be that important to me, it actually is. Perhaps I should get a stock of headscarves at the ready before the inevitable happens.

Anyway, in other news, I've finally been able to share my diagnosis with my colleagues, which is a huge relief. I hated keeping it quiet for so long, but my results kept getting postponed and I really wanted to have some information before spreading the word wider. First I told my team, then my adjacent team, and then the Head of HR sent round an all-staff email. I suspect that was kind of weird for some people but it's so hard to tell my news to people over and over again, and I really didn't want the news to 'spread' like gossip on the work grapevine. My team were amazing and I've already had some really lovely messages of support, some massive hugs (and I'm not usually a huggy person at work!) and offers of help, which is really giving me strength. It is, however, a little strange trying to maintain a sense of normalcy -- I even interviewed a couple of people for jobs yesterday, went for lunch with colleagues, had a laugh. I mean, that's kind of what I need from work right now, to carry on and have a laugh. It's what will keep me sane through all the treatment, I'm sure. But I need to be ready when someone comes up to me randomly, in the kitchen, and says 'Are you okay?'. I just don't have a ready reply yet!