Head fluff continues to increase and thicken every day. It’s exciting. Who knows how long it may take before actual hair will appear? I was talking to Mum about it this morning. “It takes a few months for babies’ hair to grow,” speculated Mum. “And it may take longer for an adult,” I mused, “after all, babies just grow everything like crazy.” “But then again,” replied Mum, “you were born with a full head of hair.”
I try to picture what my new appearance may be. I can’t imagine. Some kind of hopeful montage of Katherine Hepburn crossed with a L’Oréal shampoo commercial vaguely formulates in my head but then slips away. Looking in the mirror I see a bald old woman. I can hardly remember what I used to look like.
Of course I haven’t seen my natural hair colour since I was sixteen. In the intervening years I have been black, blue, purple, pink, deep brown, bright red and, mostly, auburn. I’m told that after chemo one’s hair might grow back curly. Or dead straight. Or Black. Or completely white.
Nick, Tessa and I go out to the Chelsea Arts Club to watch the fireworks display. It is all a bit of a shambles but fun. I think Tessa senses my insecurity about my looks. When Nick is off getting drinks, Tessa squeezes my bum and says “Don’t worry, you will be gorgeous again.”