I Bought A Hat. I Don’t Like Hats.

Or being told what to do.

This past Tuesday I bought a hat.  Apart from an old, tan, ladies baseball cap I wore on occasion to keep the sun out of my eyes, I haven’t really worn a hat since I was a young girl.  Even then, it was a toque, worn in the winter, because my mom made me wear one to keep my head warm.  I loved my mom, but I don’t love being told what to do.

I don’t like hats.  On me at least.  Vanity in reverse perhaps, I know.  I dislike the one I just bought even more than any others I have ever owned.  Why?  Because once again I was told to wear one.  And I’m not even a kid anymore, geez.  Did I tell you I don’t like being told what to do?

So why on God’s earth then did I buy a hat that I am going to wear on a regular basis?

Because exactly 4 weeks before buying the hat, I was diagnosed with skin cancer.  Cancer sucks.  It makes me do things I don’t want to do.  Like wear a hat because my skin cancer doctor told me to.  Very sternly no less, with a pointing finger in my face and all.  Do you already know I don’t like others telling me what to do?  And that I don’t like to wear hats?

Breathe Marianne, breathe girl.  There.  It’s done.  I just put it out there for the whole wide world to see.  I have cancer.  Okay, now breathe again, deep breath this time.

I debated sharing this info about me through this venue.  Until today when I came across an article on the Cancer.Net website, while I was doing some more research on this nasty thing I now have.  The article is titled “The Power of Writing” and this line nailed it for me:

Because blogging is much more public than journaling, it not only acts as a way to cope with the highs and lows of cancer treatment but may also connect you with and help inspire other people who are going through a similar situation.

Wow.  Double whammy.  In a good way though.  Sharing the news and my adventures to come about having skin cancer will help me AND help others.  Okay, I’m in then.  Decision made.

I won’t go on about the cancer now apart from saying, with much gratitude, that it’s been detected in its early stages and at this point is believed to be fully treatable.  I am having one bad tumour over my ear removed surgically next week, and some biopsies done then too.  After that, there may be some more procedures to be done and I will be set off on a course of vigilant monthly body exams along with regular checkups with my doctors.  And of course, I will be upping the SPF level of my sunscreen and wearing it even more than I already was.

And yes, I will wear my hat.  The one I don’t like.  The one I was told to wear.
The one that could help save my life.


“Fashion was not only supposed to make women beautiful, but to reassure them, to give them confidence, to allow them to come to terms with themselves.”

Yves St. Laurent, a fellow past cancer patient and lover of hats, especially on women

Featured image source:  me.  Yep, you guessed it.  That’s the hat I bought.  That’s the hat I will learn to love.  It’s the hat I will be grateful for being told to wear. 

35 thoughts on “I Bought A Hat. I Don’t Like Hats.

  1. Oh Marianne, I am sorry. Forget about not liking hats because you were told to wear one. Do you know that all of us wear hats…except that those hats are invisible to others. You wear that hat you bought and follow what the doctor says – soon you’ll be able to look at this hat with affection. I am sure your inner-hat, the one that’s made of your thoughts, is a beautiful one. Stay strong.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Hey if it’s a physician’s order embrace it. I understand how you feel when someone tells you what to do, in the hat case it’s a necessity, Marianne, let’s make peace with the idea. I also dislike being told what to do, but people do it anyway. I nod and make them believe I’d follow their advice and actually I do the opposite. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thanks ranu. I am working on embracing the hat thing, think writing about it earlier helped actually. And maybe I’ll try nodding when I stand in front of the mirror to put the hat on. Might give me a laugh as I picture my doctor pointing his finger at me. And while I begrudgingly do follow his advice ha ha! Have a happy day … Marianne


  3. That initial reaction to being told you have cancer is almost incomprehensible. Everything stops. And then, you deal with it and get control again. You’ll be fine. Just put on that hat and enjoy life. Sending good thoughts your way. Take care. Clare

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I truly hope all of your treatments go well! It’s a dashing hat, in my opinion, I’m thinking you’ll get some complements from that one! Keep blogging, about it, it does help! I’ve convinced a dozen young girls to get looked at for things myself, and though thankfully it ended up being less serious than what I have I’m glad I inspired them to go!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dashing eh? I like that word. Will have to try using it when I put the hat on. If nothing else, will help me smile as I place it on my head. 🙂 And yes I think there will be more posts about it. Something did feel better after I wrote this one so it was therapeutic. And I can never know if something I say might help others so that’s reason enough in my mind. Thanks for stopping by, I appreciate the words of encouragement! Have a happy day … Marianne

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Wishing you a successful treatment and a cancer free result. The hat looks wonderful! Writing is a good way to record your journey I agree. I am glad you are listening to the doctor. Thank you for sharing what is weighing on your heart…not easy and very strong and brave of you. Hope the surgery goes well. K

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks very much for the note and well wishes Kathleen. I’m still getting used to even looking at the hat, haven’t had to wear it yet but will be later this week when outdoors a lot for a festival. Maybe after a few wears of it I’ll start to think it looks wonderful too! Thanks again, hope you have a happy day … Marianne


  6. Hi Marianne,
    So sorry to hear your news; so glad to hear how well you are dealing with it. Courage, kiddo, courage! (Nobody here is as old as I am, so everybody is younger {that’s a deep thought — I had to dig deep to dig it up. Dig?} — so I channel Humphrey Bogart (old H’wood star, you know) when I say, “Here’s looking at you, kiddo!”) Love your attitude. Do try to fight any stupid depression that wants to visit you at night. Hug a teddy bear. Hug your husband. Hug all the kids you can round up. Absorb their strength and kindness. That’s what hugs are for.
    PS: I wear hats all the time. For glare. Sensitive eyes. Sensitive heart. My son wears hats all the time, and he’s only half my age.
    So, a tip ‘o the hat to you, my Friend, from
    “Indie Herb,”
    And PPS: Hello to all you fellow 101 bloggers here in this thread. Great to see the mjutual support.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Well hello again Indie Herb. Thank you for your thoughtful comments and encouraging words. I can imagine you being a hat man, like a fine vintage Hollywood star yourself. I’m getting better with the idea of wearing them myself. Writing this post helped and all of the wonderful feedback I’ve received. And yes that’s exactly what hugs are for. Getting lots already and will learn how to ask for more when I need them. Sure is a game changer but since it is a game might as well have some fun and strive to win. Thanks again, always nice to see you’ve dropped by. Marianne


  7. I have had skin cancer. It’s ‘in the family’ … one side of my tree has a lot of folks who have had the worst kind of skin cancer and the most benign. For myself I’ve never had that one that starts with “m” and strikes fear into the heart of the most stoic, but I’ve had carcinomas, which in my medical learnin’ (such as it is) meant the cancer was pretty dang bad. I’ve had one removed from the crown of my head and several from my left forearm. This has been over the past two decades. A relative has had two bouts of melanoma (the really scary one). One thing I brought away with me from these encounters was it’s not as bad as it sounds. It’ll be okay. Everyone in my family has survived, although one relative lost a good portion of her nose to this stuff. She >apparently< looked odd but she wasn't dead. I hope for YOU that you come to the same epiphany I did about it. And that you wear your hat. For myself hats are not welcome simply because they remind me that I have a big head. Charlie Brown ain't got nothing on this ol' gal. And having people REMARK about my big head doesn't make things any better… I hope you are one of those who can sport the beret or the ball cap or the toque with panache and grace and look really stylish doing it. Even if you don't like them.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Wow, sounds like that’s really been a challenge for your family, sorry to hear that but happy to hear all have survived their cancer battles. The epiphany is underway I do believe, the hat is starting to grow on me ha ha. And if I can wear a hat, you can too! 🙂 Thanks for the visit and the note, hope you have a happy day … Marianne


  8. I’m not much for being told what to do, either. So far, I have managed to avoid the cancer diagnosis, but I did once have a dodgy spot removed from my cheek (biopsy with happy results), and my sister has had two spots of cancer removed from her pasty white face. I do my best to slather on the SPF and slap on a hat.

    Thanks for the reminder!

    Liked by 1 person

    • You’re very welcome Leah. Happy to know all is well on the health front for you and your sister. Being diligent with the protective measures is so important to keep up the sunscreen and the hats!
      Thanks for the visit and taking time to leave a note for me. Hope you’re having a kindness-filled kinda day … Marianne

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Marianne–wear the hat. I had a malignant melanoma removed from my back 10 years ago. No big deal. It was fine. Last December I was diagnosed with stage 4 metastasized melanoma. No damn fun, I can tell you that. Wear that hat!

    Liked by 1 person

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