'He's not the Messiah...'

Lordy, I haven't written anything for 5 days! In my defence I have been away since Thursday...went to visit friends and had a long weekend away.

On Friday, I was taken by a said friend to a wig shop. She was determined to at least get me to try one on. I have always felt slightly 'uneasy' about a wig. I haven't really got a clue why.

Until now.

The shop specialises in wigs for people who have lost their hair through chemo or alopecia. Wig lady said 'try one on that is as close to your own hair as possible...'. So I explained my hair; colour, length style...'think Cheryl Cole' I said, 'but real hair, not extensions'.

So out came a wig. On it went. Uncanny. It really was my hair. The colour, the length, the style.

And it was wrong.

It felt wrong. It wasn't my hair, it was pretend my hair and I didn't feel the need to pretend it was my hair.

Now, said friend who took me to wig shop has no hair. She has full alopecia and it fell out over 25 years ago, when she was pregnant. And it didn't grow back...she is an expert on having no hair. She wears wigs. She says she wants to feel 'normal'.

I don't want to be normal. I haven't lost my hair due to alopecia. Mine is entirely chemo-related and it will grow back in a year or so. But friend, she doesn't know why her hair fell out and she has been told it will never grow back. Well, she has been hairless for over 25 years...I understand her need to feel normal...

Me. I have accepted why my hair had to go and that it will be back. I have dealt with it and I can truly say it isn't a problem for me anymore. It just is, for now anyway.

'I can't wear this wig' I said, 'the only wig I will wear is one that is not my old hair' I continued, 'you give me a wig that is obviously not my hair and perhaps I'll try it on'.

Wig lady didn't have any Siouxie Sioux wigs. Nor did she have a Robert Smith of the Cure wigs. She hadn't heard of either of these people. 'What about Louise Brooks then?' I said, 'you know, silent fim star of the 1920s'?'.

My hunt for a wig-that-wasn't-my-hair was not going well.

'OK, how about some bright blonde dreads?'. Think the evil twins from Matrix Reloaded. Wig lady just looked at me rather oddly by this point. 'Not a lot of call for blonde dreadlocks from the female alopecia and chemo patient community' she said...

Then she appeared with a black baseball cap and attached to it: lots and lots of blonde tiny plaits. Not quite dreads, but pretty close and very cool. I tried it on, expecting to look rather foolish.

Surprise. I looked oddly ok. Indeed, the blondeness rather suited me. Moreover, as anyone who has had their hair beaded, dread-ed or plaited can attest, the hair around the ears is pulled back sharply and my having no hair in these areas looked, um, normal. I tucked the plaits behind my ears and looked like someone with a plaited mohawk. Excellent. Just what I wanted. Not my hair. Nowhere near my hair. Pretend-not-my-hair.

'I'll take it' I said.

Now all I need is a white suit, some sunglasses and I can attempt to kill Neo, Morpheus and Trinity. Shame I can't just disappear and reappear at will too...

On my way home from weekend away, I stopped at a small M&S to buy something for tea. I was busily minding my own business choosing which flavour of my favourite maize-based snack product to buy when a female M&S employee tapped me on the shoulder.

'I understand what you are going through' she said 'and it will be ok'.

I was somewhat fazed. How could she possibly know that I couldn't decide whether to buy salt and vinegar or sour cream and chive flavour? I was stumped and just looked at her.

'Your chemo, your cancer' she went on.

Truthfully, I was completely fazed. I wasn't expecting this. How on earth can she know me or about Colin?

'I'm sorry' I said, looking as fazed as I felt.

She nodded at my head. I was wearing a black pirate's bandana. That bloody badge of honour. It had given me away...

'Oh' she said, 'you just shave your head then, you don't have cancer?'. She looked unsure of herself for a second.

And, for a tiny second I wanted to say 'yes' to her, that I choose to shave my head and wear a bandana...that I don't have cancer and I am not having chemotherapy.

That would be very naughty and I am not so naughty I could lie to someone's face. Particularly to a woman who was trying to be sisterly.

'Cycle 2 about to start cycle 3' I said. I felt annoyed. I felt she had come into my space and my maize-based snack product shop. She started telling me about her breast cancer etc etc. I was perfectly nice and polite and I thanked her when she said 'good luck' as I left (with salt andvinegar flavour snacks). But I felt invaded.

The week I found out I had to have chemo, I saw a woman in Waitrose. Like me now, she was obviously having chemo...bandana, the tell-tale no hair at the nape of her neck, no eyebrows. She looked like she would rather be anywhere else than Waitrose. And I thought 'should I say something to her?'. And then I thought absolutely not. I don't know her. She doesn't know me. I wouldn't like a stranger coming up to me purely because they were also having chemo and just start talking to me.

Does this make me not a very nice person? I'll talk to anyone, me. I am chatty and friendly. But I have stayed away from internet support groups and not-internet support groups. I don't feel the need to sister-it-up with other women who have breast cancer. If you feel the need for it, go for it. I do not.

I am not a very nice person...I feel bad that I was annoyed at this M&S woman for being sisterly-in-cancer. She was, after all, just being supportive. But I don't feel part of some 'club'. I don't feel like I need people to be 'supportive'. I don't want to be singled out.

Perhaps, in hindsight, I ought to have bought my pretend-my-hair wig and then I wouldn't be singled out.

As Brian said to the followers in Life of Brian 'Oh just go away and leave me alone'. Not that I am the Messiah or anything. I am just a naughty girl.