Pink Wine… Makes My Wig Fall Off

Nearly six months ago I was crying in the middle of the kitchen floor whilst my mother and boyfriend shaved off my hair.

That was one of the toughest moments of having cancer and that moment was one of the hardest to get through – both mentally and physically.

But even after shaving off the hair, I had a safety net in the form of my wig. If I didn’t want anyone to see my bald head, it wasn’t a problem because I had the wig. I also knew my hair would grow back, slowly but surely.

Now, three months after finishing treatment, after all the hurdles I’d already had to jump, the next one was ditching the safety net and getting rid of the glorious wig that had been a huge relief and support to me.

I only wore my wig when I went out, I never wore it in the house, in front of my friends and family, and if I was just popping out I would just wear my trusted woolly hat.

I can never thank the Little Princess Trust enough, for giving me confidence in the form of the wig. The wig was so much more than just a wig – it lifted my mood when I only saw my bald head in the mirror and it made me feel normal again when I was used to standing out like a sore thumb. It was glorious in every way possible and it was comfortable, which was a bonus.

But as time went by and my hair started growing at a faster rate, it became uncomfortable and the hair would peek through the edges, making it look un-natural. So then I was faced with the predicament, did I shave my hair again so I could continue to wear this wig or did I pluck up the courage to go without it?

The truth was, that I no longer felt pretty or complete or normal without the wig. It had given me so much when I needed it, and perhaps I did end up depending on it to a certain extent: the thought of going on without it made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Clothes didn’t look right without the wig. I didn’t look right without my wig.


 “Your hair is long enough to go without your wig now”

“How long is your hair under your wig”

“How’s the hair?”

“You’ll look better without the wig”

Blah, blah, blah.

I was having none of it.

I wanted to scream at these people who were just trying to be nice to me. They didn’t realise that I needed the wig, they couldn’t possibly understand.


This is one of the times where alcohol was definitely the answer.

I was feeling much better in myself so I was going out more at the weekends. The more the pink wine was flowing, the messier things were getting regarding the wig. I became more fearless and the wig was off. I kept ripping it off my head then dancing and waving it around in my hand – my stubbly, bristly, boy-hair on show in all its glory for everyone to gawk and gawp at. Some laughed, others looked on in disgust.

But in my drunken stupor, I didn’t care: I had beaten cancer and everyone was to bloody well know about it.

That was what I thought in my pink wine haze; the morning after I would cringe and cower in my bed thinking, oh god did I actually do that?

But, as the weeks passed and my hair grew more and more, I knew I couldn’t continue to wear the wig forever. I needed to get rid of it; I needed to throw it away. I knew I was depending too much on it.

But I also knew that I had to be the one to find the courage and strength to go without it: it would have to be something that I decided all on my own.

I would be completely exposed.

What would people think?

Would I be the same without it?

I had come full circle, I had lost my hair and gained a wig now I needed to lose the wig and learn to live without it again. As always though, things would happen at my own pace, when I was ready.


If you’re in the position to go without your wig, but don’t have the confidence yet: don’t rush into it. Don’t do it until you’re ready. When the day is right, something will click, and you will have the confidence to embrace the stubble(!) and rule the world without any reassurance. You won’t care what people think because you’ll know that you’re bloody fabulous.

This moment came for me on the 4th of April 2016.

I didn’t tell another living soul, I just went to work without my wig. I tied a bright orange, flowery scarf around my forehead and just went for it. Nobody questioned me and nobody stared, in fact people were actually paying me compliments!

I felt exactly the same as I did when I wore the wig. It was only until I looked in the mirror I remembered I wasn’t.

A customer in work said:

“I like your headband, I can’t decide if you look like a hippy, a gardener or if you’re a head banger.”

I just laughed because it was funny and I didn’t care that she was making a joke at my expense. Had this been a few weeks ago, I would have broken down in tears but I knew I was fine, I knew I could take whatever was thrown at me.

I can’t believe that was over a month ago now.

My wig remains hidden away. It served me well when I needed it but now is the time for everyone to see me without it. Like everyone, I have bad hair days where I look in the mirror and hate it because it won’t lay flat, so most of the time I resemble a porcupine with spiky hair, pointing upwards and in every direction. I pray that my curls will reappear soon or I will be getting a perm, pronto.

I am definitely on a mission to get my hair long again, so slather it with coconut oil and every other super-duper-extra-fast-hair-growth-conditioning-magic-oil I can get my hands on, but for now, I am proud of my short hair. It is a symbol that I have fought a battle with cancer and come out as a survivor. Not everyone is lucky enough to say these words and I am proud and happy that I can.

Here is my hair Journey so far…



** If you saw my last blog post, you will know that I will be doing a Skydive on the 27th of May to raise money towards The Little Princess Trust, Ward Alaw and CLIC Sargent. Thank-you to everybody who has already donated. If you would like to sponsor me I would be very grateful as all these charities are so close to my heart. Thankyou 🙂



After treatment, I was at a slight loss: I didn’t really know what to do with all the time on my hands. I was done with chemo and without my routine I had nothing to do. I couldn’t lie in bed any longer or watch any more daytime tv: in fact, the thought of being in my bed for a second longer gave me the shivers. I wanted my life back so I had to keep busy, but I often pushed myself too far so ended up compensating for it by spending the next few days in bed anyway. It took me some time to realise what my body’s limits were and how far I could push myself before being utterly zonked.

A few months down the line… and it’s May already (!) but I finally seem to know the limitations of my body and how far I can push it, and myself.

When I was first diagnosed, I made it my mission to raise as much money as I could for Alaw Ward at Bangor Hospital, The Little Princess Trust, who make real-hair wigs for teenagers who lose their hair during chemotherapy and CLIC sergeant. With the help of friends, I have raised £5, 800 since September so I would like to thank everyone who has donated and raised money in my name.

Ward Alaw has been phenomenal over the course of my diagnosis and treatment. I went to the ward every other Friday for six months and whenever my pick-line broke or came out, they were more than happy to fix it. All the members of staff were really, truly amazing. The nurses were so lovely and even tolerated my noisy friends! There were days where I felt like crap and I couldn’t face another moment of chemotherapy but they always went out of their way to make me feel better – I can’t thank them enough.

As you all know, in November I shaved off my hair off, which was a horrific moment and one of the lowest points of the illness. The only solace was that I had a real-hair wig to wear, made by the Little Princess Trust. I felt confident in my wig. It was a way for me to be ‘normal’ again, at least on the outside, like I didn’t have cancer (and as normal as I ever am!) Since my diagnosis and my support of the Little Princess Trust campaign, many friends and local people have cut their hair and donated it to the charity so they can go on creating lovely wigs for more cancer patients.

CLIC Sargent is a charity that supports young people with cancer. They are a growing charity but they are truly amazing. They provide support and advice for patients and families going through cancer. My support worker was so kind and helpful and she sorted so much out for me. She sorted out the things that I would never have thought about, things that I didn’t want to think about. She made my life with cancer that little bit easier.

These three charities gave me so much throughout my treatment so I want to do one more thing before closing the fundraising account. Now that I’m back to ‘regular health’ I have decided to do a skydive on the 21st of May in Lancaster with Iola, my boyfriend’s sister!

I really cannot express well enough how amazing these three deserved charities have been with me, and undoubtedly, many other cancer patients over the course of treatment. Without them I would never had made it through the last few months or made it out of the dark pit that is cancer.

I would appreciate any donation towards such amazing charities so that it can go towards helping young person who’s going through cancer.

Wish us luck!!!