For the anyone who’s not ready to let go, just yet
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There’s no real prep for losing your hair during chemo. Not the kind that sticks, anyway.
Sure, people told me it might happen. Nurses warned me, friends hinted at it, strangers offered advice I didn’t ask for. But nothing and I mean nothing prepares you for the moment it starts happening.
And it doesn’t fall out all at once like in the movies. Not for me, anyway. It crept in slow, almost like a betrayal. So I wanted to share what it really looked like not from a medical perspective, but from a human one. Here’s my honest, unfiltered hair timeline during chemo.
WEEK 1 & 2: THE SHEDDING BEGINS
I was still holding on to hope. I thought I might be one of the miracle cases who keeps their hair. I even straightened it before my first treatment, my own little ritual of control. Straightening my hair was my version of journaling. Thinking time. Processing time. Me time.
But around week two, the shedding started.
At first it was subtle. A few extra strands in my brush. Then a few more on my pillow. And then suddenly, I couldn’t run my fingers through it without coming away with a small handful. It was everywhere. I was pretty sure my DNA had taken over all of Los Angeles.
It felt like a slow goodbye. I started gingerly pulling it into a low ponytail, refusing to use heat. Refusing to admit it wasn’t mine anymore.
I wasn’t ready.
WEEK 3: DENIAL MEETS DREADLOCS
By this point, my hair was starting to turn on me. It tangled. It snarled. It matted. It started forming these weird dreadlocks, and not the intentional, beautiful kind, but chemo-induced knots of shedding strands wrapped around the ones still holding on.
They hurt. Like, physically pulled on my scalp kind of hurt. But more than that, they felt like a metaphor. Like the cancer was wrapping itself around me, slowly taking over.
When it became useless trying to style it and make it “look” pretty, I decided to take back control. I grabbed a pair of scissors with my sister by my side, and we cut every dreadlock off my precious head and styled it into a short bob, just long enough to tuck behind my ears.
It was a small, messy step toward freedom. But it wasn’t over.
WEEK 4: THE SHAVE
What I thought was a clever bob was actually a full-on bald spot party in the back. I had gone to the grocery store like that scalp white as snow against my dark curls. No wonder people were staring…
The next morning, mini dreads returned. And that was it. I was done.
We got clippers, turned on Britney, and my sister buzzed it all off.
It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t empowering at the moment. It was raw and vulnerable and real. I felt naked, the weight of my hair completely gone. But afterwards? I felt a shift. Like I’d put on armor.
I had done the hard thing. I had let go.
And in that space, I felt unstoppable. Ready.
THE EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH OF GOING BALD
Let me be crystal clear: losing your hair is not easy. I don’t care how many people say, “It’s just hair.” or “It’ll grow back” It’s not just hair. It’s identity. It’s a time capsule of memories: the good, the hilarious, the bad, the so sad. It’s part of who we were before this diagnosis took over.
I was angry. To top it off, I had just grown my hair out. YEARS of length, gone. And for what?
Although brave and ready to hit the ground running on the outside, I felt numb inside. Devastated. The reflection in the mirror showing someone I did not recognize but I pushed it aside. I ignored her, this new version of “me.” I wasn’t ready to grieve the loss of my hair and the person I once was. But eventually over time, I allowed the pain to be released from my heart. I welcomed acceptance, not just for my new look but fully accept the entire process of it all. And when I did, I found myself again not in the mirror, but in the way I faced it all by showing up each and every day. Knowing I would demolish this chapter. Knowing that at the end of it all, I’m still here, I’m still ME, I win.
So if you’re holding on to every last strand, styling it carefully, hoping for a miracle? I see you. I was you.
And when you’re ready to let it go? You’ll know.
SCALP CARE
(Because No One Tells You About That Either)
Also, no one tells you your scalp might mourn too. Mine certainly did! Once I shaved my head, my scalp did not take it well. I experienced acne, dryness, and itchiness. A whole mess.
Here’s what helped me manage it:
- Epiphany True Scalp Oil – calming and clean, it made my scalp feel like it could breathe again.
- Jojoba or Argan Oil – lightweight and non-irritating.
- Neutrogena Scalp Therapy Anti-Dandruff Shampoo – I tried my regular face wash, and when that didn’t cut it, I eventually used this shampoo. Word of Caution: It may smell awful. One common chemo symptom is heightened smell and this product was my least favorite scent. BUT it was the only thing that helped calm my pissed off and irritated scalp. So I dealt with it like so much of this process.
COVERING UP - WHEN I WANTED TO
If you want to wear the wigs, DO IT! If you want to rock the bald, DO IT! If you want to wait it out and hold onto every last strand, DO IT! Just because you’re going through this doesn’t mean you have to shave your head. Do what works for you. You have a choice in this. Fact is, you will feel a draft, your head will get cold so wear what feels the best.
I didn’t wear wigs. They irritated my scalp and honestly, I didn’t care enough to fake it. Although, the wigs out there now have improved so much! There are so many options to chose from! For me, most days, I wore baseball hats and my absolute favorite Mudvii pre-tied headwraps (Copy & paste at checkout CODE: THECHEMOQUEENS for 10% off). These are the kind you just throw on and go. They also have satin lined ones which I absolutely LOVED and felt amazing on my scalp! Also the Kitsch Satin pillowcases were a non-negotiable. My head was tender, and the smooth fabric helped me sleep better.
REGROWTH: THE COMEBACK STORY
After chemo, those first little sprouts appeared. At first, it was white fuzz, I looked like a baby seal. Then came the curls. My curls.
I bleached them blonde. Because why not? If there was ever a time to go platinum, it was now. I loved it for about a year, then realized blonde on dark hair is a lot. So I went back to my natural color, and my curls started to come in strong and soft and full of life.
Now, when they brush across my cheeks, I feel like I’ve made peace with this chapter.
My Haircare Essentials During Regrowth:
These helped me bring my hair back to life:
- Amika Pink Charcoal Scalp Cleansing Oil – clears buildup and gives hair follicles a fresh start.
- Nurtiful Growth Serum – no gimmicks, just real results.
- Marc Anthony Leave-In Conditioner – gives that immediate softness to baby hair.
IF YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF IT...
Here’s what I want you to know:
You don’t have to rush.
You don’t have to pretend it’s fine.
You don’t have to smile through the shedding.
You can cry. You can grieve. You can cut your hair in stages. All at once. Or you can hold on as long as you want.
There’s no right way. Only your way.
And when you’re ready to move forward, not “be brave,” not “be strong,” just move forward as you are, we’ll be here.
Explore Our Hair Loss Essentials
This isn’t just a random product list. It’s a curated care list from someone who’s been there. I’ve sat in the same waiting room chair. Walked those same halls to infusion.
These are the headwraps, oils, and small comforts I clung to when everything felt like it was falling away.
