My mum hates the fact I'm bald. She's embarassed by it.
I was in Sydney for a few days with my drama class and had the best time in my scarves, not my wig. My friends dont mind talking about my alopecia and I felt - and, dare i say it, looked :P - great. Whenever we were just around in the hotel, I didn't wear anything, aound the girls at least, and everyone was fine with it.
It made me realise how much pressure I feel from my mum to wear my hair.
It's currently summer here, so it's quite hot and humid. Despite all the awesome that is freedom wigs, they are not the more cool things in that kinda of weather.
I've spent most of the last two weeks in scarves, and everyday Mum will say something, or give me "significant glances". I guess she means well, but its really starting to annoy me.
We have a friends 21st in Sydney this weekend. Fancy restaurant, cocktail dresses, lots of people. I really want to wear my scarf. One) cooler, much. Two) I feel less fake in it. Three) I really dont care.
I do hate the stares. I hate that people think I have cancer and start telling me about their sick loved ones (I really truly hate this - more than is in any way rational. I have on more than one occasion said very rude things to people that have done this, though I completely understand they are trying to be kind and are dealing with their own issues.). I hate that people ask if I'm a lesbian, that they move their kids behind them like I'm contagious, that they tell me that "it could be worse".
But if people like me, like us, who get the smallest oppertunity to teach people that these things are wrong, if we hide behind our fringes and cringe, we share the blame. I want to go to the party in a scarf - not because I like the attention, not because want to undermine my mother.
I want to go for the little girl at the next table. Or the one I walk passed. Or the one who sees me through the window.
I want to be bald for the next little girl who goes through what i did.
I want that little girl to remember, when her hair is lying dead on her pillow, or clogging the shower drain, I want her to remember the bald girl who was at that party. Who was laughing at some guys joke, and talking with her sister, eating gelato cause its the best food ever, who looked amazing in her little black dress and stylish-yet-affordable heels.
If we don't teach others about alopecia, we cannot complain that know one knows, or no one understands. We must be bold, as well as bald. Because no one else can.
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