Tinsel in My Hair

While fixing my hair in the mirror, something caught my eye.  I could swear I saw a sparkle as I pushed my bangs into place.. Nah, I’m probably imagining it.  In fact, it’s probably just these old highlights.  Time to get my hair fixed up again anyway, and…WAIT!  Right there!  I’d really seen it this time.  Like a strand of tinsel hiding in the dark brown.  

I leaned toward the mirror and practiced deep breaths while I tracked down the offending hair.  I slowly and methodically peeled away the other strands until I held it, alone between my fingertips.  

Not brown.  Not an old highlight either.  This mutant colour went all the way down to the scalp.

I pulled sharply and brought the hair in front of my face.  Are you freakin’ kidding me? Surely this was not anything that belonged on my head.  

What I held before me was silvery-white. Not grey.  Shimmering and white. 

“JASON!“ I yelled, as I bolted downstairs and threw it onto his Ipad screen, forcing him to see it too.  “LOOK!  That came from ME!”   

Jason shrugged and said something very annoying, like, “well, that’s life,” clearly not understanding the harrowing gravitas of this moment..  You see, I simply cannot go grey.  This had to be a mistake.  I am NOT going grey.

I forced him to examine my glorious scalp of heretofore young, lustrous and healthy hair.  Do you know what he did?  He found another one and pulled it out!  The bastard!  He put it next to its sister and I stared at them both dumbly.  These strands looked thick, resilient and strong, but they were undoubtedly….white.

I demanded to know if there were any more.  I begged Jason, in a slightly frantic tone, to tell me the truth.

Jason, not being a stupid man, sensed the effect this was having on my now hazardous mood and elected for the peaceful route. He lied to me. 

And of course, I bought it.. Ha. I’m not actually going grey.  Just a couple of weird hairs.  And we pulled them out anyway.  I mean, I’m not even 40, there’s no way!  

The relief lasted until the next day, when I spoke to a girlfriend with an honest streak.  “Oh, you’ve got greys,” she said, as she indulged me, by also examining my scalp, “I can see a bunch.”

At first, I was upset.  I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone else.  However, I found myself intrigued enough by this new thing that it just kept popping into my mind and out of my mouth. I told some of my friends, but almost every time I had the conversation, something funny would happen.  The friend in question would lower their voice and say, actually, I’ve found a few myself…  

Excuse me?  My friends.  My young and sexy friends are going grey? Impossible.

I called my parents and told my mother over the phone “Oooh, you’ve got your father’s genetics.” she said, quickly absolving herself of any blame in this tragedy.  She did have a point.  I’m not sure the woman has a strand of grey yet.  My father, on the other hand, is plenty grey, but I swear his started later.  He offered his encouragement and declared that I should “wear it with pride.”  

Proud or not, I did some quick googling.  There is evidence to suggest that some grey can be caused by stress (hellooooo pandemic years), and because of that, some people think it can be reversed.

Reversed!  Ok, the evidence for that is shaky, but here’s what I’ve managed to gather: If you are stressed, you need to relax. (Deep stuff.)  You also need to eat plants.  Lots of plants.  (You think that’s enough plants?  No.  Not enough. More! Go crazy with them.)  Because some raw food vegans swear their diets have reversed grey.  However, even  if you stuff yourself on exotic fruits and cruciferous veggies, you still just might be doomed to snow on the roof.

Hmm…Can I get an estimate on how long this all-salad approach will take?  

This whole thing is weird.  Up until now, I hadn’t even considered the prospect of grey hair.  I wasn’t expecting it to show up for a few decades yet. I’ve always said that if I did go grey, I would just dye my hair anyway. That I didn’t want grey hair.  That I would never “embrace it.”

But when I first saw it, it was beautiful. It didn’t strike me as ugly at all.  When I spotted it, it shone silvery whilte.  It looked like it belonged to a unicorn or something. Like…kinda pretty.

Honestly, I’m probably going to keep dying my hair.  Not to hide the new “sparkles,” but because I still think lime green, blue, magenta and purple are more fun colours than anything I can grow naturally.  

Still, I might just let my silvers show through.  Once I earn a few more of them.  They’re not so bad.

Three Bald Women

Back in March of 2020, I started working from home. You all know the story of the pandemic, so I’m not going to rehash it here. Suffice it to say that my hair was not exactly my top concern.  I decided to let it grow.

Me in Feb. of 2020

As it progressed, I had it dyed and trimmed periodically, seeing my stylist as the pandemic safety protocols allowed. Eventually it was past my ears. Then it became jaw length. Finally the day came when I was able to put it up.  (I had to buy myself elastics and a brush and everything!)    


Since I have enough hair, I have become a fan of ponytails, headbands and, my personal favorite; adorable wee little space buns. It’s been a big change for me. Up until recently, I’ve pretty much always had short hair.

My sister, on the other hand, has had long, beautiful,  dark red hair for a long time. It is very feminine, it suits her well, and I haven’t seen Alli truly chop her hair short in maybe…ever? I mean, would ya just look at that hair?

Alli is the fiery redhead. I’m the space cadet in any colour of the rainbow!


Hair can be a powerful signifier for who we are as a person.  How we choose to wear our hair can be deeply linked to our perception of ourselves.  


Which is why it can suck so much when cancer patients lose their hair. 

 The doctors told mom that she would most-likely lose hers. She didn’t relish the idea of experiencing her hair falling out, so she decided to go ahead and just shave it. She decided that she wanted to lose her hair on her own terms.

So, the three of us went to our favourite salon to see longtime family friend and hairstylist Trish Molloy to have her shave mom’s head. Trish also dyed, cut and styled mom’s new wig.

All the same, we know that bald is not a look my mom would have gone for ordinarily. My sister and I were afraid she’d find it hard. Seeing herself bald might come as a shock. Maybe make her feel more like a “cancer patient.”

Well screw that. More like, “Cancer patient, but make it fashion!” We decided not to let her do it alone. (What, you think I’d let her have all of those “Borg queen” vibes herself?)

Mom, who looks pretty great to me!

 

Alli, who kept a little hair, but lost a lot!
Won’t be needing those scrunchies for a while!


When she looks in the mirror, she might be reminded of the disease.  But she can also be reminded of this moment; and that she’s not alone.

All of us with hair! (That’s mom with her new wig!)
Three bald ladies and the infamous Trish!

(To me, we either look very punk rock, or like a modern version of Macbeth’s 3 witches.)

Mom had her first round of chemo Friday.  One round down, five more to go!

Onwards and upwards!

-Jennnq

Saturday Night Transformation

I went out on Saturday night. I had a pretty good time transforming myself beforehand, and thought I would share the result.

Nothing like a little makeup, a flattering light, and or course, a dramatically different wig to change one’s appearance!

I feel like I forget the power of makeup myself sometimes…until I see what I’ve managed to do to myself. (Don’t know who that chick is with the red hair, but she’s not the real me!)

I had a good time going out as this more feminine version of myself, but by the end of the night, I was wishing I looked a bit more punk.