The Sorority of Bald Women

Amanda, Bobbi, Laura, Lizbeth, Amelia-this one is for you.

July 2013

Pre Chemo(with Jen, my stylist), August 2013

There is an unspoken bond when we see each other.  An automatic hello, wave and look of understanding.  Sometimes followed by a hug, definitely lengthy conversation.  We are all natural best friends.  Outsiders have asked me, 'How do you know her?'  'Someone from the hospital?'  when I talk to them in public.  My responses are, 'I don't, we've just met,' or 'No, just a new friend.'  We are The Sorority of Bald Women, a club we never wanted to belong to, but are proud to welcome each other to when we meet.

Losing my hair was harder on me than I thought it would be.  I was never one of those girls who tied her worth to her hairstyle.  Both my mother and mother in law had hair down to their knees when they were my age, and took much pride in their flowing manes.  My locks are fine, littered with cowlicks, and do not hold a curl.  I was always quite satisfied to stuff it into a ponytail.  When I got diagnosed with cancer, they told me to cut it short so it would be more manageable when it fell out.  I did, it was fun to have a mohawk, even for a short while.  When it started to fall out, I felt ugly.  It was patchy.  It started to look very gray as my scalp showed through.   This is when I stopped taking pictures.  

Hair falling out, October 2013

Feeling ugly, October 2013

Pumpkin Hat, from Katie, November 2013

People suggested wigs, hats and scarves.  To protect myself from the sun I obliged, but wearing a hat for a year and a half cramped my style.  I felt like I needed to coordinate my outfit to my hat.  Though the gift hats and scarves piled in, choosing what you wear is personal, just like the clothes you pick out.  There were a few I loved and wore a lot.  Again, anything you have to do for a lengthy time gets old.  I missed my hair, my fine, cow-licked, ponytail foddered hair.  I missed clipping it back with those tiny colorful clips I've used since high school.  I missed burning my temples trying to curl it unsuccessfully.  I missed the amazing streak of purple that gave me that edge I always wanted.

Mouse Ears, February 2014

April 2014 

I didn't ever wear a wig.  Odd, given my theatrical background, I know how to make wigs.    Wigs take so much maintenance.  They are itchy, and synthetic ones can be easily damaged, not to mention they are expensive.  It just didn't feel natural, I wasn't playing a part, I was me.

Last Day of Chemo! October 2014

MLB Playoffs, October 2014

Being in The Sorority of Bald Women takes strength.  Not just to endure the chemo and treatments we are dealing with, but the social stigma.  Little kids and strangers look at bald women then look away.  We don't get asked if we need help from retail employees, we feel invisible.  Outsiders see us as damaged. Why don't they do this to bald men?  It is just my opinion, but I think being a bald women is harder than being a bald man.  Our femininity is gone, not just due to our nonexistent hair, but the androgyny we feel going through treatment.  Hormones and general stamina keep us from having the energy to feel pretty.  Our identity is altered.

January 2015

Growing in, December 2014

We greet each other and act like best friends because we are going through something you know nothing of.  Cancer is rough on anyone that receives a diagnosis, don't get me wrong boys I know it is hard on you too.  To be a thriving young woman one minute, and an androgynous medical experiment the next really makes you evaluate your self worth.

So please, the next time you see a bald woman do me a favor, smile.  Say hello, tell her you like her shirt, nails, or handbag.  She is fighting a battle you are glad you are not in.  Women are beautiful, not because of what they look like on the outside, but because of the kindness of their hearts and quality of their character.

April 2015