Over time, that attitude changed. I came to love myself, bald head and all, and the accepting response from friends and family made that all easier. Gradually, step-by-step, I got used to going around bald. First at the Alopecia UK Liverpool Flashmob, then at a Spa with my mum; step-by-step, balder and balder (see what I did there).
What this has culminated in is a 'totally what I feel like' approach to being bald. If I'm in the mood for a wig, or it compliments my outfit, then a wig I shall wear. If it's hot or I'm relaxed or perhaps just in the mood, then I don't wear a wig.
Before now, regardless of the mood, I always took a wig with me; partly out of habit, partly out of the desire for flexibility - much the same as if I'm wearing heels, you'll always find flip flops in my bag. Over the last few months, I have entered a new phase; where before I left the house on a bald day with a wig tucked in my bag, now I've taken to leaving without one at all, in part to save the condition of my wigs.
For me, meeting people bald falls into one of two categories:
- Category A is meeting people in a fixed capacity for a period of time; I have the opportunity to explain to people, answer questions, stem querying looks and correct inaccuracies. For me, this is part of the educational and awareness approach I take to my hairloss and leaves people clear on the causes of it.
- Category B represents situations where a meeting is transient or fleeting. The parcel delivery man at the door, someone who walks past me, other spa users - anyone I am unlikely to see ever again.
Over the last couple of months as my confidence has grown and I've left the house with no wig at all, I've come to the realisation that my neighbours fit into neither of these categories. I am on talking terms with my neighbours and they are actually really lovely, but at the same time, we have passing chats about recycling, parking and other neighbourly pursuits, not the in-depth discussions shared with friends! At this stage, not one of my neighbours has seen me bald; not because I covertly leave the house under cover and refuse to expose my head, but because as I've been leaving the house without a wig on, they just haven't been there!
This morning, I looked like a madwoman; I left the house without a wig, hunched to avoid the rain, juggling all manner of bits and bobs in my hands and most oddly with a piece of toast and peanut butter shoved unceremoniously between my lips that I was trying to eat without hands. I leave my driveway and step onto the pavement not really concentrating and nearly bump into a smart young man in a suit, clutching an umbrella. He immediately apologises and I try to make a muffled apology through my slice of toast. Naturally, he does a double-take, although at the toast or the baldness I am not sure, his eyes lower and he hurries past me, clearly uncomfortable. I'm going to go with the baldness here.
To be honest, I'm not bothered, but what it has done is cause some of my original guilt to resurface. This man does not fit into Category A where I have dutifully explained my condition, but nor does he fit into Category B and I'll never see him again. Nope, instead I am at the centre of a situation where my neighbour from a few doors down, probably now thinks I have cancer, or potentially just thinks I am a mad-bald woman! Either way, it isn't an ideal solution and short of hunting him down and knocking on the door, it's a situation I am stuck with. In fact, highlighting the issue and trying to force a discussion could very much make it worse, so now it's just a situation I am stuck with! I'm sure I'll get over it soon enough though!
Victoria x
www.prettybald.co.uk Twitter: @PrettyBald
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