And I tell you truly: it feels amazing. Yesterday I took myself out for a little [more than a] trim at the Beauty Bar and left with the shortest hair I've ever seen on this face of mine. And the icing on the cake? I was able to donate a full 12 inches and maybe more to Locks of Love
which made the decision twenty times better.
But the heart of the matter is this:
I'll be starting Phase Two of my treatment in a couple of weeks (chemotherapy). Back at the start of this whole cancer business I never thought the idea of losing hair would be one that would traumatize me. After all, there are SO many other things one could spend their time worrying over and in my specific case, SO many things worth focusing on and celebrating. The idea of stressing over the potential (but not absolute) loss of hair seemed light years away and honestly, like a bit of vanity that I could do without. After all, it's only hair, right?
Well the answer is wrong. Little thoughts would creep up on me without warning, the fear that I might be eating out and leave a long chunk of hair on the seat behind me, or that my thickish mane would begin thinning and dropping away to a few straggly strands. And then the dreams kicked in, as fear always plays out in my subconscious and I would shake myself away one hand on my head checking, always checking.
I'm done with the worry.
And I'm certainly done with sitting passively and wondering if the worst might happen.
So I rode out to meet my fear, to head it off in the middle of the valley before it edged any closer to my heart. It felt fierce. It felt incredibly empowering. It reminded me that I make the call on my own strength.
And I am a force to be reckoned with.
What I didn't expect was to love it as much as I do. I think this whole short hair business is pretty flipping sexy.
Now I just need to invest in more huge earrings. Because I'm rocking a new huge me.