Sorry, no more cute pics of the dog today. Instead I’m going to tell you another story about my weekend.
The short version (which is much preferable to the one I told Science Guy) is that my mom hates my new headbands. You may recall my Nexavar caused a pretty fair amount of hair loss. While I was in Portland for the marathon I found these awesome headbands called Bondi Bands.
They’re a great stretch material that stay put and they come in fun colors. More importantly they make me a little less self-conscious about my hair loss. I like them, Science Guy likes them, my girls like them, my mom doesn’t.
She tries to be tactful and instead tells me often how she likes my hats – and that my dad likes my tan one. If all else fails, play the dad card right?
I have a couple new hats that are ok but I really have never liked the way I look in them. I decided it would be fun to make her admit it so on Saturday our conversation went something like this:
Mom: “I like they way that hat looks on you.”
Me (in my snazzy hat): “Better than my headband?”
Mom: “Well, I just like the hats better.”
Me: “You can be honest, I’ve already figured out you hate the Bondi Bands. It’s pretty obvious.”
Mom: “Well I’ve never liked headbands. Ever. Even on little girls. You girls never wore headbands. But maybe if I lost my hair I wouldn’t mind so much.”
Me: “Yeah, I might not be wearing them either if I hadn’t lost my hair from the cancer drugs.”
Mom: ” Have you tried it with some bangs showing?”
Me: “No, but only because my bangs fell out!”
Mom: “Well I like the hats. Have you thought about wigs?”
Me: “Can we stop at the liquor store?”
Now I know she means well but WTF? Where in the family cancer support groups do they suggest telling the self-conscious bald girl she looks like a dumbass in her latest accessory?
I think most of her discomfort comes from the fact that maybe I look a little more “cancer patient-ish” in them. In a hat I might just be cold. Or on my way to a baseball game. Or maybe she really does think I look like a dork with an overly large forehead. It’s possible. I understand either way.
That was the beauty of Gleevec, the first drug I was on. There was no hair loss. It gave us the false sense of security. As long as I had a full head of hair we could all pretend I was healthy. I didn’t have the whole head wrap thing going. I didn’t look like a cancer patient. Now maybe I do, just a little.
When I brought up a family photo on our Christmas card she suggested maybe it would be a good year to have just the girls in it because “it’s so hard to get all 5 people to look good at the same time.”
Translation: I’m afraid you have a headband with a poinsettia or lights on it.
I do realize she’s more comfortable seeing me in the hats. Maybe it’s a coping thing, so Sunday morning as I was getting ready to go I made the decision any good daughter would make.
I put on a headband.
Annoying your mother never gets old. It’s a good thing she loves me.