Sometimes having cancer feels like it's all about numbers and statistics, and I don't mean only the survival rates.
For example, I was in a restaurant yesterday; my husband and kids took me out for an early Mother's Day dinner. While waiting to be seated we were right by the entrance. Without even realizing I started glancing at every single woman walking in, and every single one of them had their own hair (have I mentioned that I have become somewhat of an expert at spotting fake hair?)
I even counted them! Out of 17 women I saw walking in that restaurant there was only one other wearing a wig other than me. An African American lady that I'm pretty certain she was just having a bad hair day and decided to take the easy way of fixing it (I could see her hair coming out the back).
Today I went to church in the morning. Many people commented that my "new haircut" looked really nice and that they loved the new "look".
In a way I'm pleased because it seems that I achieved exactly what I was hoping for, and that's for people to think that I just changed my hairstyle. I didn't want a weird/fake version of my own hair like many people try to do when they lose their hair and buy a wig.
On the other hand I don't know if people really mean it, or if they actually understand that I'm wearing a wig and they're just trying to be nice. One would think that if they knew they would keep their mouth shut, but you never know with folks at church.
The only person who knows is the Young Men's President, he is a very good friend, and he has sworn not to tell anyone. When he saw me (this was the first time after I told him I have cancer in an e-mail) he said "Wow! You look nice. I like the hair!" I jokingly punched his arm and he quickly blinked his eyes in recognition of what had just happened and said "Oh, sorry!"
So it seems he didn't even put 2 and 2 together until I brought his attention to it, which I guess is a good thing.
Who'd ever know! I'm one who would never fuss over my hair. I have naturally wavy hair (now they tell me they might never come back) that I used to wash and let them air dry. Sometimes I'd use some gel, but that's about it. Maybe the Vanity Fairy is taking her revenge on me for never messing with my hair enough.
Do I talk a lot about hair? I guess I do. By the way the count at church was:
35 Women, 1 Wig. Mine.
"There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies and statistics" Mark Twain
Sunday, May 10, 2009
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