I cut all my hair off.
About two months ago, while we were in France, my hair started coming out again. Nothing had changed. I had been on the same chemo every three weeks for a year and seemed to be handling it just fine. But there was no denying it. Every time I got out of the shower I left a quarter size wad of hair in the drain.
I was pretty bummed. It didn’t stop with that, however. The texture changed and became just like fuzzy puppy hair. All the curl went away.
And the worst part was that it occupied my mind all the time. I worried about it ALL. THE. TIME. Even though I knew it was nothing I should have been thinking about. I couldn’t go outside without thinking that the sun must clearly be blinding everyone as it bounced off my scalp.
It didn’t matter how many times my family and friends told me it looked fine. I just couldn’t believe them.
So last Tuesday I went in to my most trusted hair stylist who is also a good friend and just poured out all my frustration. She suggested a few things and when I couldn’t pull the trigger she does what she does best and just basically asked me to trust her.
And then she cut the heck out of my hair.
I love it.
It’s so much better. I don’t spend any time worrying about it. I spend less time getting ready because all it needs is a quick slick of some sort of product and I’m ready to go. I even believe most people when they tell me that it suits me and it shows off my eyes.
I thought it might be hard to go back to how I looked after I stopped my treatments and my hair started growing back in but this is a totally different thing.
This time it was my choice.