July 17, 2008 ~ The Art of Girly-ness

It takes more effort to look girly when you have no hair. Carve that is stone somewhere; it’s the absolute truth.

Yesterday when I was at MD Anderson waiting to have my blood work done, I shared the waiting room with a number of gutsy women who came in sans-hair. Sans-hat too, and sans-scarf. They are the bold ones who simply say, “To heck with this charade, I’m going au naturel.” Among those women was one who looked to be in her mid-70′s, passing the time talking (loudly!) with her son about politics and other potentially offensive subjects that made her son look chronically uncomfortable as he tried repeatedly, and unsuccessfully, to change the subject. She was clearly an opinionated soul with a lot of heavy thoughts on her mind, and they weren’t going to just stay there quietly – much to sonny’s chagrin.

My best efforts to tune her out were futile, even though I’d brought a great book. Somehow, regardless of how engrossed I had been in the pages of my political thriller, her voice crowded the characters, dialogue and plotline – all three. When my name was finally called to the inner waiting room of the Diagnostic Center, I was happy to set my bookmark and go with the nurse. Two other patients had preceded me into the inner wating area, and the nurse pointed to a woman who was already there. “You’ll go after the woman in the red scarf,” she said to me. As I took the chair next to the distinguished-looking woman with a beautiful red silk scarf tied around her head, another woman came in after me. She, like the loud mama in the outer waiting area, was bald. She was wearing a nondescript uniform of some sort – khaki pants and khaki shirt with the name of a company embroidered on the pocket, and work boots on her feet. I’m sure she must’ve just come from work, or would be going to work after her appointment. She was told, “You’ll go after the woman in the bright blue top,” as the nurse pointed my way. I nodded and smiled at the woman in the uniform as she took the chair next to mine. It was all so orderly, and so polite. Until . . .

The woman from the waiting room was then ushered into our little inner sanctuary. In a dress with a pattern as loud as she was, the woman blustered into the room with, “Well, it certainly took long enough today! I thought you’d never call my name!” The nurse, unflustered, simply pointed to the uniformed bald woman and told the noisemaker, “You’ll go after the woman in the glasses.” Giving the uniformed woman a long study up-and-down, the loud mama said, “Oh, you mean the man in the glasses! The man, not woman!“

I wanted to crawl under my chair. I felt mortified for the sweet woman sitting next to me. It’s undeniably disconcerting for a woman to lose her hair in huge clumps, and then finally be completely bald, but it had to be mortifying to be mistaken for a man because of it! But it only pointed out what I’d felt from time to time – it is true that much of a woman’s own sense of femininity is in our hair. We baby it, condition it, curl it, style it; we like it to be gently flowing around our faces, adding softness to our expressions. Without it, I have come to realize that I need to find other ways of feeling – well, girly. Typically, for me, it means that I must wear makeup, jewelry (especially earrings) and perfume. And, of course, I’m not brave enough to leave home without a covering for my head, whether it’s an adorable hat, scarf or wig.

If the bald uniformed woman had been wearing a cute pair of silver hoop earrings and red lipstick, Miss Loudmouth probably wouldn’t have made such a dreadfully insulting mistake. Which just makes my point, doesn’t it?

It takes a little more effort when you’re bald.

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