Catia Bitching Cancer

I have usually made it a practice to never say never, but shortly after I was diagnosed I went around saying that I would never wear a wig. I should have stuck to my very wise practice. Evelyn (who has what I call a wig fetish – no sex pun intended….really!) bought me a cute blond wig and I have indeed enjoyed it so much that the other day I bought myself another, this time bright red! I don’t have a picture of myself with the red wig, but will get one soon. In the meantime, here’s one of me being blond and one of me being bald. I take my wearing a wig, a scarf, a baseball cap, or any sort of decoration to my head (or leaving it as chemo wants it) as a political statement: that however a woman decides to wear her bald head is a decision fruit of the circumstances of her life and the environment she is surrounded by. I think that no one but her has to feel comfortable with the way she looks (though I know, I ***know***, how uncomfortable people’s stares can feel on your skin and how unnerving can people’s “suggestions” on what you should wear and how can be). I believe that part of the fun is keeping your head straight and high in the face of the public gaze. So I wear my wigs (or not) and a smile, when I can.

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