I had my first post-chemo, post-cancer hair cut yesterday.
The hairdresser, Jamie, cut and coloured my hair beautifully. The hair cut itself is exactly what I asked for, is the best thing that could have been done with my hair at the length it's at while allowing for me being desperate to grow it out as quickly as possible, and is technically a very nice and good hair cut.
Unfortunately none of that matters because the reality is I look completely shit with short hair. I look shit. I look like a boy. And to top it all off, now I have to put products in my hair that make my hair feel like a boy's hair too. That not-quite-sticky-not-quite-crunchy feel. Urgh. Fuck sake. Gross.
But, anyway, ... let's get this over and done with.
First of all, as a reminder, here are my hair styles over the last 15 years.
Yep. Same haircut for the last 15 years. I am not fashionable. Not wacky. Not glamorous. Not funky. Not cool.
I am plain. My hair is brown. I have it between bob and shoulder length. I sometimes wear it down. I sometimes tie it up. That's as interesting as it gets because I am plain and boring and I am very happy that way thank you very much.
But right now, my hair is short like a boy's and that's just my tough shit because I had cancer. I can't bear to wear that bloody wig any more, and I can't hide away until my hair has grown. I can't even hide away over the next week as I've got plans every frigging day - some involve seeing people I see regularly, some involve seeing people I haven't seen in ages, and some involve meeting people I've never met before. One of the days I am going to be doing another talk in front of an audience (another "Oi! Tories! Stop selling off our NHS you bastards!" talk.) So I can't hide my boy hair away. I've got to just suck it up and go out there.
I don't know who reads my blog. But it generally gets a few hundred hits a post (I know, right?! WTF?!) so I'm hoping that's as many of my friends and colleagues as possible see this. I'm going to share photos here so it doesn't come as a shock when you see me. For those of you that do see this before seeing me, do me a favour and don't squeal at me about my hair! Please! There's no amount of kindness or well-meaning compliments that will help here - I hate it with a passion. The less attention the better.
This was it last night immediately after it was cut. But I prefer back and off my face like the above pictures (I think).
Maybe in time, as it grows, and as I maybe get more skilled with products and hairband and slides, I might hate it less. But right now.... no.
Fucking, bollocking, bullshit cancer.
I am now going to go to a local Labour party meeting and instead of listening to what my MP Liz Kendall has to say about leadership and stuff, I am going to obsess over how jealous I am of her gorgeous, beautiful, perfect hair.