My sister was rather pleased with herself for coining the above phrase in response to my mother getting upset when I told her I thought my hair was starting to come out. The hair loss, from the chemo, was a necessary side effect of what will hopefully be a cure, she explained.

I”ve read a few things on the Internet recently where female cancer sufferers, and even specifically breast cancer sufferers, said the hair loss was the hardest of all to come to terms with. At the time I have to say I thought that was a little strange, particularly from someone who was also going to lose their breasts. Surely hair was only cosmetic? And it does grow back.

I’ve been pragmatic about it until now. Not being at all good at wearing hats or tying scarves, I’ve booked an appointment with the lovely style consultant, Morag, who did my colours and style last year. Not only is she thus qualified to advise me on head gear during my months of baldness, but her own sister, a twin if I remember rightly, had cancer and lost her hair.

So I thought I was well prepared. But I’ve had a couple of incidents of alopecia in my life, where I ended up with a couple of bald patches, so I know the difference between the normal amount of hair that comes out when I wash or comb my hair, and an abnormal handful. The latter amount is what has started appearing in my hand, encouraging me to virtually stop combing my hair and bringing the reality home.

A suggestion from the stylist at the clinic was to get my hair cut short first to help with getting used to a new look. I have to be the worst candidate for this hair loss thing in one respect, because I haven’t changed my hairstyle since I was 18, literally! Prior to 18, I had at least experimented with short hair. It was also fashionable to have straight hair, often in a ‘bob’ cut. So I used to blow dry my curls to try to get them as straight as possible.

But at 18, after my treatment for Hodgkins was all over, I went to work in a ski resort in France, where I shared a chalet with 7 French girls who worked with me at the resort complex. One of these had very long, straight blond hair. She would wash it, then bend over with her hair falling down toward the floor and run the hair dryer over it. In less than 5 minutes she was done, while I spent nearly an hour trying to straighten my curls.

So one day, I copied her. And, Lo and behold, I had the sort of curly look that had just become fashionable and that women were paying a fortune in perms to try to achieve. The ease and simplicity — less than 5 mins a day — meant that even when the look went right out of fashion, I stuck with my natural curls.

Now, for the first time in 34 years, my whole look, one that is so recognisable to others, is about to change. I know it’s not all bad. There have been many times along the way when I’ve longed to have a new look, when I’ve envied women who changed their hairstyle every 5 minutes. I never tried because firstly, it’s difficult to maintain a non curly hairstyle when your hair kinks with the slightest bit of moisture in the air and secondly, my husband ‘hates’ it when I do, just for a change, have my hair straightened!

Last night though, that same husband, realising that my hair really was about to start falling out, actually suggested that maybe I should go to a hairdresser and get it cut now. And that’s when the tears fell. It’s never the big things that make you cry. Always the little details.

“It won’t make any difference to me,” Martin said, and of course I know he means it. He’s the best possible person to handle cosmetic changes. He genuinely thinks looks are only skin deep and that it’s what’s underneath that counts.

I guess I should talk to a hairdresser. Trouble is, I don’t have my lifelong hairdresser like some women do. The person who knows me and my hair best these days is my sister-in-law, but not only is she down in Poole, I think she might be too emotionally involved. It would upset her to cut off my locks. Here, I’ve been going to a Russian woman across the road in what is more a barber’s than a unisex hairdresser. She’s fine but her english isn’t brilliant and my Russian really isn’t up to it.

So I’m not sure what I’ll do. But even if I do nothing, I have a feeling it won’t be long before the long-hidden new-look me begins to emerge!!

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