(The following is a letter from sister Alopecian and fab beaudiva, Therese, posted here with her permission.)
I feel the need to write something. I have been living on “the other side” for a while now, meaning I have only worn my scarves in the privacy of my home. Outside I have worn my wig. And as each day of wearing it has gone by, I have despised the wig more and more. Beautiful as it looks, it has nothing to offer ME - only something for the eyes of others - a woman with hair. Meaning? A normal chick. No big deal, no questions… does she have…? Is she….? Hmmmmm.
So in the process of all this, I ordered another wig from someone else, one that promised me an easier fit. No glue. No tape. Beautiful waves. He even sent me the cap to try on before the hair was ventilated. I tried it on and it fit. It took 10 weeks to complete.
It arrived today. Hair as promised. The cap fits, except for the neckline, and with the type of material it is made from, this cap cannot be altered now. Basically, it’s beautiful but worthless to me.
Ironically, for the last few days, between Chicago turning into the tropics and me getting the worst cold I’ve had in centuries, I have only worn my scarves. Of course, I have been off from the hospital too, but yesterday I had a mandatory meeting there and without thinking twice, (hell, even ONCE) I put on one of my cutie-patootie beaubeaus and out the door I went.
Last week I looked at the 4Women website and at the new photo contest winners. I didn’t dare look at the new scarves for fear I would betray my Yaffa.
Today I look at the new waves I can’t wear because the cap is wrong and the old Yaffa with hair thinning out and drying out - and I reached for my favorite beaubeau.
I wonder, did I want hair because I wanted hair, or did I want hair because I was surrounded by sweet young thangs at the hospital with thick pony tails and Bambi eyelashes? I had not been exposed to that kind of environment for a long time. And to think how proud I was that I got my job wearing a scarf on my head. And how upset I was when I first wore the wig and someone told me I looked younger. Shame on that guy. That’s like telling a woman she looks nice in a dress because it hides her big butt.
In this disjointed letter to you, I think I am saying that I have once again expensively learned that I cannot put back on my head what a disease took away and feel “real.” In the scarves, I am comfortable and colorful. In the wig, I am encased in mesh that to others looks like hair but to me, feels like a hat. It’s only when I look in the mirror that I see the hair. So, really, what good is it? Other than offering some comfort level to others and perhaps a way for me to hide again… I thought I was done with that.
So like Linda Ellerbee would say, “And so it goes.” Back to June 2009, when I first placed an order for 2 scarves. And they are still 2 of my favorites.
Time for more.
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