I got 99 problems but my hair ain’t one

My scrutinous hair watch has eased a lot in the past few weeks, because I actually have some now. I have finally reached the point I have been eager to get to; when people wouldn’t actually know what has happened the past year when they look at me. Yeahy for no more awkward stares, always a plus. Now they’ll be gawking at me because I’m so hot. Haha joke of 2016 goes to Sarah Carty.

Over the past few weeks my hair has gotten a little wild to say the least, like wildfire one may say, fiery gingery wildfire. It was that frustrating time where it is too short to style, but hey at least I had hair so I couldn’t/ wouldn’t complain. When it got to the point where I looked a little like a mad scientist (not too far from the truth anyway) I decided to take a chance and go to the hairdresser. And of course I would not go to anyone else other than Nadia who works at The Style Club, The Square, Tallaght, the same wonderful stylist who originally cut my long hair up into the fabulous bob (read blog here), just in time as that very same day I was called in for my first round of chemotherapy. She did such a wonderful job the last time, I knew she would be ready for a new challenge. I wasn’t even sure if she could do anything at all, feeling it was still a little too short for any style. No fear, Nadia is here. Without much stress at all, she tidied up the crazy ends and created a pixie- style, even though she had at max two inches to work with.

It was a secretly proud moment for me. Going from having bald noggin that Phil Mitchell would envy, to showing off my spikey hair, to having to get a trim and style because it’s getting too crazy. I had not had a brush or hairdryer used on me in nine months, crazy. Just sitting in the chair, getting pampered (absolutely love the Style Club by the way, it’s so funky), deciding what way I want my hair cut, no words to describe. Whatever, I adjusted to my bald head, treating it as a necessity to get better, I dealt with it but I can’t properly describe the elation when you get your hair back. Yes of course I would be lying if I said vanity did not play a part in that joy, but mostly I was so happy to see hair because I was not identified as a ‘sick’ person anymore. People and strangers will look at me now and think no further. There will be no looks of pity, elephants in rooms that people are too awkward to address, no looks of shock when I rip my head scarf off and twirl it in the air while dancing. Finally I am Sarah again. Not Sarah ‘did you hear she had cancer’ Carty, but Sarah Carty. See ya gotta go brush my hair again!

 

Absolutely delighted with the result!