Two Weeks On


It’s been two weeks since I shaved my hair off. Two weeks already. Time flies and such.

So, here’s a quick update. I have got used to having no hair, and forget about it most of the time. When I first left the house, I grabbed a hat or headscarf because I wasn’t quite ready to show the rest of the world. Within a couple of days, I was grabbing a hat or a headscarf because it’s bloody cold out there!

I have stopped shivering constantly in the house. My ears have become warm once again (for at least the first week, I forgot what it was like to feel warm, and my ears were freezing. All. The. Time.) Bean and Plum have stopped mentioning or even noticing my lack of hair. PK still likes to rub and/or slap my head.

A couple of people have expressed surprise recently that my hair isn’t longer now, because when you shave it off, you notice just how quickly it grows, and a mm or two makes a huge difference. So how come it doesn’t look like it’s grown? Well, because I’ve shaved it four times since Stonelaughter did it for me.

The most common comment so far, which I had been pre “warned” would be the case, is about how brave I am to do it, closely followed by the number of people who say they wish they were brave enough to do it themselves.  I don’t mind hearing that at all, but here’s the thing – I don’t feel brave. I certainly didn’t feel brave when it all came off, but it was something that I had to do.

Two things have surprised me. First, far less people stare than I had imagined. This is a good thing. I’m more than happy that a woman with a bald head does not, in the main, cause people to develop rubber necks!  The second thing that has surprised me is that over the last two weeks, the reasons I needed to do this have become clearer to me, are still becoming clearer. I had a bit of a revelation today as I was getting into the car – a little bit of a thunderbolt, out of the blue.

I’ve always felt like I needed to be a certain person to fit in with friends/job/circumstances. Now, at almost 40, I know that my friends don’t care what I wear or what hairstyle I have. I no longer have a job that requires me to meet certain “standards” of appearance. And I’m finally feeling comfortably enough in my own skin to be myself. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting there.

And that’s a great feeling.

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