Look Good Feel a Little Better

The last time I had cancer treatment, I did not opt to attend a Look Good Feel Better workshop, the free two-hour session sponsored by the Canadian Cosmetic, Toiletry and Fragrance Association Foundation that helps women with cancer learn techniques for wearing makeup, wigs, hats and scarves. Although I wear makeup, I don't fuss with it a lot, and I didn't lose my hair last time, so the workshop didn't seem like my kind of thing. A couple of years ago, though, I was hired to copy edit, fact-check and write for the Look Good Feel Better magazine, and I found interviewing various participants inspiring and interesting. It became clear to me that the workshop offers not only practical tips (they focus on the special needs you develop during drug and radiation therapy, which in addition to hair loss can cause changes in your skin, higher susceptibility to sun damage and infection from contaminated products), but an opportunity for women to gather with other women who understand what they're going through, and who are STILL ALIVE. Even women who never wear makeup and don't care a fig about their hair can feel uplifted by spending two hours playing girlie-girl when most of their days are made up of much more serious stuff, and looking a little better really does raise one's spirits.

So yesterday I went to an LGFB session at Princess Margaret Hospital, which is held at their wig and hat shop. It was fun. I got to ask embarrassing questions, such as will I lose my OTHER body hair (it varies from person to person, apparently), and got a lesson in applying eyebrow pencil just in case. It was joyful watching the one woman in the group who had lost her eyebrows have them drawn back in. The lack of eyebrows does make such a difference to one's face, more than a bald head does, I think. Anyway, she looked ecstatic when she peered in the mirror.

I also got to be the hat and wig model, which was a laugh since I've got a weirdly shaped head for the purpose. The two scarves I ordered online, a nice soft cotton thing in dark brown from Just in Time that can be wrapped like a turban, and a lined patterned red silk scarf from BeauBeau, are quite lovely, but given my family's reaction to them, I think I'll sell them on eBay. When my brothers saw the red scarf, they both said "Take it off!," preferring the short hair they've seen me with many times before. (How they'll feel when I'm completely bald, I don't know.) When my sister saw it, she almost choked on her laughter; after getting her breath, she asked, "Where's your parrot?" (I confess the first time I put it on, I felt as though I should be cradling a crystal ball.) The consensus, not that I'm surprised, is that a bald Cynthia is more attractive than Cynthia in headgear, though I do think I'll make good use of a nice Puffin Gear sun hat I bought last summer. I have a couple of ball caps that I could use in a pinch, too, though they look pretty funny.

Nevertheless, the LGFB ladies oohed and aahed as I modelled various berets and cloches and scarves, and I did enjoy the experience of testing out a wig. It was more comfortable than I expected. I don't think I'll buy one, though, because they're fairly pricey and I'm hoping I wouldn't need it for long. My sister pointed out that we've come a long way since the days (not so long ago) when even the words "breast" and "cancer" were not mentioned in polite company, and a bald head was something to be hidden. She knows I'm more of a natural kind of gal. She also knows I'm obsessed with my hairstyle, and I have to admit that not having any hair at all is a relief of a sort.

Speaking of being natural, it's not lost on me that the bucket full of free beauty products that are donated by the big cosmetic companies and given to each LGFB participant to take home undoubtedly contain chemicals that some people think are implicated in increased rates of cancer in the population. As usual, my desire to use only paraben-free, organic products is at war with my horror of throwing things out or not using things up -- and of turning down a freebie.