Hair vanities

I am not a vain person. After all, I didn't do much to maintain the hour glass figure (36-24-36) I had at 20, because I thought it would last forever by genetic default. My wardrobe has always harboured an ecclectic collection of garments more devoted to comfort than fashion, and I wore little makeup, except when going out dancing at night. But when it came to my hair, that was a completely different matter.

I shall never forget the anguish I felt one morning when, after having spent 3 hours fixing up my hair the night before, a curl-free, straight mop greeted me in the mirror. It was lucky that my roommate, a photographer who learned to hate the craft as soon as she turned professional, took some pictures to preserve the memory. That was in 1973, when my hair was still naturally black and had a healthy sheen.

Today, both the hourglass figure and the natural black sheen are almost forgotten things of the past, but my preoccupation with my hair lingers.

Having sworn to grow old gracefully, with no artificial enhancements, I must confess to turning myself over to the good graces of my hairdresser's alchemy as soon as the gray streaks appeared when I was being wooed by a man a decade younger than myself. Can you blame me? Well, to cut a long story short, for the past 20 years I've spared no expense to keep my hair its 'natural' colour, no matter how empty the coffers.

So, now that I face the prospect of losing my hair completely during chemotherapy, I am getting preoccupied with what a bald me would look and feel like.

I have already signed up for a session with "Look Good, Feel Better," a free program offered to cancer victims by the Australian beauty industry (including free makeup and skin care products). The three hour session includes personalised tips for treating the skin, applying makeup and insight into the secret world of wigs, scarves and turbans.

Unfortunately, the session in my area is only given in late December, after my 3rd chemo session, by which time I will have already become bald. So, I have already collected a couple of gorgeous large scarves and sun hats, hoping that they will do the trick in the interim. And I am now weighing the question of whether it is better to wait for the hair to fall out naturally, or to be proactive and trust my rapidly growing locks to the hairdresser's razor.

Interestingly, the prospect of losing my hair also spurs me to take a look at my wardrobe and I notice that I am preoccupied with my total look - something that never bothered me much before. What a good excuse for hitting the shops to get a new wardrobe for the summer!