I’ve got a funny shaped head. I swear it’s because I was hit so many times by the blackboard rubber when I was a kid.

For those who don’t remember the good old days before white boards and i-Pads or whatever gizmos they have in school these days, the blackboard rubber was about six inches long, a big piece of felt mounted on a thick wooden base. My geography teacher, who bizarrely I still think of fondly, used to stand at the back of the classroom and lob it at the back of my head when she thought I was sleeping in class.

She was a damn good shot, old Miss Wright.

So, if I shave my head, when I shave my head, I expect I’ll look quite weird. I look quite weird anyway but my hair helps to distract from that. Let’s just say I think it’s unlikely I’ll be getting signed up to be a Sinead O’Connor lookylike.

I expect people who see it and know I did it for Macmillan will think, ‘wow, she should have done a marathon instead’.

But I’m a ‘go big or go home’ kinda girl. Actually, I’m a ‘go big or don’t bother leaving the house’ kinda girl.

I’ve rattled a collecting tin for charity on a few occasions, I’ve had monthly direct debits to good causes for more than two decades, and I’ve given money to friends doing really tough things that made them sweaty and took some gumption, but the last time I actually got off my butt and did something worthy of sponsorship was 20+ years ago.

So I’m not sure why I’m doing this. I really like my hair. It’s pretty much the only thing about my appearance I do like. It’s taken me years to grow it this long, I like it in low-hippy bunches, tied up, let loose, sleek and straightened or totally wind-blown. My hairdresser, whose word is law, refuses to cut it any shorter – he doesn’t think everyone can carry off short hair so no doubt he will f.r.e.a.k out when I tell him I’m going chop it all off.

But I hate crappy, crappy, horrible, shitty cancer and I know heaps of you feel the same. And, the thing is, I’m choosing to Brave The Shave. So many people don’t have that choice.

I’m sure I will wonder why I did it when I’m walking the dog at 6.30am in the depths of winter, and I’ve just gone into the bathroom and scraped all my hair back and looked in the mirror and I do indeed look weird but all those people at Macmillan, the nurses, the financial advisors, the people who lend an ear, they’re pretty darn cool, eh?

sx

Oh, PS. I made this decision totally on a whim. If you’re one of the first ones to read this, my lovely husband will find out I’m doing it about the same time as you did. That’s got to be worth a quid or two, eh?

If you would like to donate you can do so here  https://bravetheshave.org.uk/shavers/sally-b/