Wiggin’ Out… my journey to wigs

Being client facing for my job and liking to meet random people, my appearance is everything to me. Rarely will you see me out without makeup and my hair done. Both my hair and my make-up are forms of expression for me, an art. My hair stylist is one of my closest friends and my make-up is ever changing. Hair and make-up matter to me. They matter a lot. So, when I was diagnosed with the first thing those closest to me tried to figure out was how was I going to keep my hair.

Keeping your hair during chemo is a battle, but one I thought I was ready for. My mother saw an interview by a model who cold capped during chemo to keep her hair. Her hair was part of her brand, the same way I would consider my hair part of my brand… except, I don’t get paid to look pretty. My hair was just something I was known for. Something I was complimented on frequently. Something I liked recognition for. At this point I can hear you say how vain I am. I don’t care. My hair is part of my identity and I will be damned if I lose it

Back to the model’s interview. Her husband and her used the cold cap throughout her chemo treatments and felt it was successful in keeping a majority of her hair. I then googled and found more articles of women who cold capped with success. Okay—I am so in.

Well, what most people don’t tell you is cold capping is painful and you lose a shit ton (yes, an actual measurement) of your hair. By second round of chemo I had what they call a shed. A bad shed that left me in tears and inconsolable. My poor husband, Sam, was at a loss for words. Although he could see the hair that had fallen from my head, he couldn’t tell a difference in my hair and it infuriated me. I could see a huge difference and I did not want to be seen in public. I refused to go out without a hat on. A hat. Ew. I am not an everyday hat person. This was not me. I was defeated on top of feeling like crap from chemo, I felt my identity slipping away and all I was, was cancer. I refuse to be cancer. What could I do?

Once the panic attack subsided days later and I spoke with my therapist, I knew I needed to be productive about this instead of cry. Okay, productive while crying was my compromise to myself. I called every wig shop/nonprofit that specialized in medical hair loss. Finally, Serenity Wig & Salon answered and talked me off a ledge. I was completely overwhelmed even before stepping foot in the salon. Great. This was going to be easy and fun….

Lucky for me, not so lucky for her, this breakdown coincided with my best friend’s trip to Austin. I was determined to feel normal while she was in town, so her and I were going to tackle this wig thing.

Camille (best friend visiting,) Jordan (friend extraordinaire), and myself walk into a wig shop. Sounds like the beginning of a joke, but it was a beginning of a very stressful experience for me. I walked in, looked around and immediately started to panic. What the hell was I doing? What has my life turned into?! Why the fuck is this happening to me?

Honestly, all thoughts that hadn’t entered my mind before this moment about the cancer. This break down was bigger than my hair. It was me. I was losing yet another piece of me and I was scared.

The first wig was put on my head and the panic attack was not over. I was suffocating. I needed it off! Every wig needed to be away from me. Nothing looked like me, everything looked like cancer and I was suffocating. Camille and Jordan took over. Jordan started talking to another lady who was battling cancer and Camille started to redirect the sales lady who was helping us. I just stared. Why? Why do I have to do this? Fighting back tears, I started to talk to my fellow cancer club member and started to calm down. I can do this. At this point, Jordan and Camille (boss bitches) had picked new wigs that finally started to feel like me.

We finally found my everyday wig which is close to my natural color and similar to a cut I have had before. I was finally feeling good.

The rest of the day, I wore my wig. I got hit on, got compliments, and felt like myself… just a little more. The decision to wear a wig was not an easy one, it’s not comfortable all the time, especially with my scalp being so angry from cold capping. It was a decision I needed to make to feel more like myself. Each woman is going to go through differently and for me, this was the right decision.

Now I have three wigs! My everyday blonde wigs that I feel like myself in. My Analyse wig that is a bright red! And My Priscilla wig, that gives me the confidence of 1,000 women. I’m started to not feel like cancer every day, and learning to walk tall in my new hair, but it’s a journey, not something that will happen overnight.