Great Walls and Wigshops

Well the 6 year old has given the new wig an 8 out of 10. Thank goodness for that! It looks like my 'old' hair, and not a bit like the tangled Dolly Parton wig that is now draped over the back of the kitchen chair.

What she doesnt know is that I have bought another one that is short, pixie-like and a bit like the hair I've got at the minute! I intend to wear this one when she's at school, then plonk the other one on my head for when she comes home.

The wig shop was amazing. I was given first class attention by a girl who had worked there for 22 years. She was only 40 years old, which meant that she'd been there since the age of 18.

One thing with this breast cancer malarky, is that you get to meet some truly fantastic people. I have been lucky enough to do a lot of things in my life - visit the Taj Mahal, sleep on the Great Wall of China, marvel at the Grand Canyon...but up until now, I had never had the experience of the wig shop in our local town. I shall now add it to one of my own wonders of the world.

I Will Always Love You

I love the honesty of kids sometimes.

Adults are just so bloomin tactful and diplomatic, whereas kids just say it how it is without thinking anything of it.

My chemo starts this Thursday, so I thought I'd do a bit of prep work. I booked in with my lovely hairdresser who I've known for years, explained what was happening, and we decided that it would be a good idea to have my shoulder-length, wavy, brown locks chopped short - especially since I've been instructed by the physio to do so much cleaning. I really wouldn't want to upset her by blocking the hoover when my hair started falling out.

And so I returned home looking like a little pixie/elfling thing. I thought my little 6 year old would be impressed. Not so.

'Oh my God, mum, you look horrible. You're not my mum anymore.' Followed by tears.

In an American movie, I would've said the following -

'Of course I'm still your mom, honey - I'll always be your mom no matter what I look like, and remember I will always love you...'

But I didn't. I just cried as well, said nothing and gave her a cuddle.

Later, I was going to suggest that she should bunk off school and come with me and Grandma to the wig shop to help me choose the right style, when she appeared with her blond 'Dolly Parton-like' wig that had been stuffed at the bottom of her dressing up box.

'There's a few tats in it, mum, but if we brush them out, you could borrow this...'