the thing about my hair

Now that I have basically no hair of my own left on my head, I must admit, it is rather freeing. I can understand now why some women would choose to shave it off before any of it begins to come out.
If you do it yourself, it isn't just something that happened. It's something you did. And that can be empowering.

I guess I held out as long as I did because I wanted to see if it was actually going to fall out. How silly would I have looked if it never even thinned? Even though both my chemo meds listed hair loss as a possible side effect, I figured there was at least a little hope that it wouldn't happen. Once it started to come out by the handful, I knew it wouldn't be long, and that's when I went wig shopping in earnest.

I didn't realize, at the time, that others were dealing with my hair loss, too. I hadn't thought a lot about that side of it, beyond knowing that it might be disturbing to some, just thinking about it.

My younger boy has a difficult time looking at me when I'm walking about the house bare-headed. I sympathize, and I try to remember to at least put on a hat so he doesn't have to see how bald I am. My mom made me a couple hats, of soft knit, and these are incredibly comfortable.

It was my mom that surprised me, though. When she read the first post about my hair loss, it made her sad. She didn't like to think about that happening to me. She told herself it was just hair, but, practical as she generally is, that didn't seem to help much.

Saturday evening, when I was ready to have the rest of my hair buzzed off, I went over to my parents house. I had planned to have a friend do it, but she wasn't able to come over. So I asked mom to do it for me. She hesitated, just for a moment, but not because she didn't want to buzz my head. She just didn't want to clean it up - we like to do this sort of thing outside, on the lawn, but it was too cold and dark for that. (See, she's totally practical. I love that about her.)

We set up in the bathroom, and she cut off sections of hair, and then started in on the final buzz cut. When she was done, she asked me if she should clean up the neck area. I told her to leave it - it's all going to fall out eventually, so it didn't matter.

We gathered up the hair and put away the tools, and I thanked her and went home.

The next day, after dinner, she told me that she was glad she'd been the one to do it. Cutting and buzzing off the rest of my hair had been good for her, because it wasn't just something that happened, it was something she did.

A few years ago, I'd had her buzz my hair short in the summer, because I was going to camp for a week and I wanted to be able to quickly shower and get on with my day without worrying about my hair. I wonder, now, if I hadn't done that, if I'd be as okay as I am about how I look now. About having to cut my once long, thick, curly hair so short. Or having no hair at all on my head.

It's one thing when you've decided you want to cut it off. It's quite another when it happens against your will. It takes time to adjust to it. I've had some time to think about it, picture how it might happen, and how I would look. And I was smart to go out wig shopping with an open mind, ready to try anything.

It's different, but, I'm okay with it. And so is mom.