pink hair

Edie Sedgwig

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The one thing that ‘everyone’ knows is that if you get breast cancer, you get chemotherapy that leads to alopecia. If you don’t know anything else about side effects then you do know that. I was never worried about that part of it and thought it would be a fun way to “reboot” my hair!

Shortly after I told my closest friends and family that I had cancer, I got the most amazing purple wig in the post from Kay. I love my darling sister! It was absolutely perfect and really made my day! Purple goddess, that’s me. And I love it! Such an amazing colour and matches my nail varnishes, too.

Lucky are we who live in Norway and have chemotherapy that leads to alopecia. We get a requisition for “headwear and wigs” so that we can cover our bald heads with something nice, without having to pay for it ourselves. I made an appointment to visit Jalvad parykker in Oslo. Great service and we found the perfect wig for me.

Wigsafari with June. First time at Starbucks (OMG I know!!!!!) and fancy new hair. Photo: June Ø.

The fun thing about having had every single hair colour and do possible is that no matter what kind of wig, people are always going to think that this is your real hair because it probably has looked that way at some time or other. This one was nice and short, had a good snug fit and looked good. And I’ve had that hair colour and style on at least one occasion!

Not that I used it much. I rarely used any wigs at home. Far too hot! But at least I learned that wigs are basically all the same size so I could safely order some from overseas.

I went a bit nuts at Rosegal and have a number of wigs from them. I’ve since read several complaints about their web store, but I’ve always received the items I ordered within an “acceptable time period”. I do live in Norway, after all. And I absolutely love my fake hair! It doesn’t even look fake! I know that some women are worried that ‘everyone’s going to see it’s fake’ if they get a synthetic wig, but it’s not like that at all. Just don’t sit too close to an open fire – and don’t open the oven door – and stay well clear of candles.

Cos it’ll, you know, melt.

I used my “proper wig” a few times and then I got Edie. I’ve been a fan of Warhol since forever – after all, without him there would have been no Velvet Underground. I found this silver one and I just had to have it. So this is Edie Sedgwig. If you don’t know who Edie Sedgwick was, you’ve missed out on important cultural history! She was one of Andy’s superstars in the Factory.

Edie was fun. Edie made me feel colourful. Edie gave me OAP ticket prices on the bus. I even got an extra Edie so I can make an even more fluffy version!

The problem with wigs is that you have to wash them, just like ordinary hair. It’s fairly easy – at least for normal people it’s fairly easy. One bowl with shampoo & water – gently wash – leave for 15 minutes. Rinse. Bowl with balsam water. Hang to dry.

The only problem is that when you’re crippled with neuropathy and fatigue, there is no way you are able to stand let alone actually do anything.

I did the only smart thing: changed wigs. Which was great fun!

I got this really nice steering wheel cover from Sverre for my birthday. It’s lovely, nice and warm in this freezing cold winter, in a lovely black and pink floral pattern. And it matches Melanie perfectly! Melanie Martinez appeared on some talent show and sings, and is famous for her two-toned hair.

Personally I prefer Venus the chimera cat. But you already knew that, didn’t you?

I am Samson(a)!

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Not because I have long hair (anymore), but because my pink hair makes me invincible. Dyeing your hair bright pink and making it as noticeable as possible commits.

When I walk down the street, people stare. What they see is a fat, 40-ish woman with bright pink hair looking like she’s trying to be a good luck troll. And because a lot of people lack manners, they stare, as if I’m some sort of one-woman freak show.

Which I am (in a way). What they don’t know, is that their staring just makes me lift my chin that much higher, and straighten my back just a touch more, and if I’m really lucky (for instance, if I’m sitting on a train) someone will phone me and I can tell the person on the other end how my check-up with the oncologist went and about how there are so many rude people staring at me and how goddamn stupid I find them.

That usually makes them turn their head away in shame, or they’ll put on their music, cos people love hearing about other people – just not other people’s cancer.

Sometimes, pink hair initiates conversation with people who are curious (I don’t think for one second that anyone thinks I’m a punk or crazy). And I’ll tell them that this is my breast cancer hair, and we skip the awkward “OHMYGOD I didn’t know, I am so sorry” cos pink hair – you’re not looking for apologies, you’re open to talking about it.

In the past nine weeks, since I first went pink, I’ve had quite a few conversations with strangers – not that I particularly enjoy talking with strangers (I am an introvert, after all) – and they’ve been good conversations. I’ve told them my story, we’ve talked about signs and the importance of knowing your what your own breasts look like by default. We’ve talked about treatment and discovery, and I’ve told them how most tumours can go unnoticed for a year or two – in spite of mammography – because they usually grow so slowly.

And stnading straight and walking tall is good for the body, so I figure my physical therapist will be pleased, too.

And if just one woman manages to spot a tumour early, then it’ll be worth all the glares and stares and rude whispers…