Once I started feeling better, I had a great week!

I had to pass up on going to my favourite festival (which involved camping in the middle of a forest, but I just wasn’t well enough), so Charlie and I stayed home for a well needed restful long weekend, but we sent Ange off to enjoy herself at the festival.

Ange was coming over to the UK for (amongst other things) her birthday. So when she got back from the festival I had made her a birth-week itinerary. It involved a French Restaurant, a local pub quiz, drinks at the Shard, dinner and drinks in Soho, bottomless brunch, bars and the best food market in the world.

On good weeks, chemo doesn’t have to even factor into your thoughts. Ok so it’s pretty much one good week in every 5, but still. That’s one week of normalcy, and that’s all it takes!

The whole week, my hair had been falling out. They say 3-4 weeks until it starts. They told me that because my chemo is so hectic, it would be 2-3. Well, after 1 week and 5 days I couldn’t run my fingers through my hair without tufts of it coming out. I was going to wash it one more time, but the shedding was too much too quick, so as well as getting thinner as the week progressed, it was also getting more greasy. Great.

By Saturday it was very thin. I went out hiding my bald patch with a super cute ribbon, but I knew it was my last day. We had a great day out for Ange’s birthday with the two of us and Charlie and Owen coming along too. The Gang!

I had got Charlie to get me some clippers earlier in the week in preparation and on Sunday morning I said ‘it’s time’. I messaged Ange in the other room and said ‘I’m cutting off all my hair’. She came running out.

LET THE HAIR SHAVING PARTY COMMENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

First things first, I trimmed Ange’s hair. Years ago I got my ear pierced and we went out drinking after and I must have knocked it and it bled for hours. The next day Ange went in and gave blood. This time she agreed after a few drinks the night before to me giving her a hair cut too. So I took about 1cm off her hair before I did mine. Amazing. Solidarity! She doesn’t look too terrified at this point…

After Ange’s turn in the hot seat, I pulled as much of my hair out as I could and cut the rest short. Then Charlie started with the clippers, making it nice and short all over.

Then Ange took over and finished off and shaved it really short (she’d done this before so we labelled her the expert and she did the closing moves).

I was amazed at how much hair there was! Even though it had been falling out in swathes for a week. But finally it was finished! 

I thought I would be able to pull it off, but I didn’t realise I would look THIS GOOD! Haha I was obsessed. Skinhead!! So we went out to show it off, I wore my grungiest dress, big black clompy boots and leather jacket. 

This was all so much fun. I owned the hair shaving. I was surprised when I saw myself how much I still looked like me. I would have thought my personal identity was more linked to my hair, but it’s not. I still felt like me entirely. I suppose I used to change my hair regularly anyway – colours, styles, lengths. I know it grows back, I’ve never been too bothered by it changing.

I love it. My badge of honour! And it was great to have some of my closest people right there with me to make it fun. I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t bothered, I just wanted to get it done. I also put it all on my Instagram story and got to share it with a whole lot more people too which was super fun!!!

Bring on the next part of the adventure!