Hair

Cancer but make it cute

In college this girl who was “fucking” my “boyfriend” (it’s possible that she would disagree with this characterization, but it’s been a lot of years so whatevs) told me that you have a better day when you do your hair. I have always found that her perspective was spot on. Thanks, girl. Sorority girls know a lot of things. So since the early 00’s I have held a pretty firm belief that in order to live my best life, I must pay mind to my mane.

My hair. So healthy. So undyed. Such a luscious brown. So curly but easy to straighten. I have short hair but sometimes I have long hair. My hair grows and grows; it’s like 3 people’s hair on my head. I like headbands. And bouncy ponytails. I like sleek bobs. I like big messy bed head looking curls. I like having bangs sometimes. I like that people think I curled my hair and I get to say, no it grows out of my head like this. Pandemic life had me embracing what I had, and as you just read, I was super cool with my hair.

Then, you know, cancer, what the actual fuck. Oh, I need chemo asap, oh really, super. Wait, what the fuck Doctor Man, did you just say my fucking hair is going to fall out? Not very cool dude …but, actually, I was sick of long hair anyway. Really it’s so much upkeep and who wants to shower and deal with this old mop regularly? Shower caps, not sexy. Cold wet hair on a cold day, yuck. Hot hair in summer making me hotter and sweatier, gross. Uncomfortable sleeping bun that gives me a headache, could do without. Mmmk, this sucks, but yes, I think, if anyone can have no hair, it’s gonna be meeeeeeeee.

Lean in, it me. Denying it’s going to happen won’t change that it will happen. Grateful that I have world’s greatest hair friend. A few weeks ago she gave me a pixie thing to have fun with and so that I could avoid the true emotional trauma of losing my curls in messy chunks* and also so my kid could get used to the idea of bald mom (…and in case you were worried, he’s super into the idea, and much less into the idea that it’s going to come back). With this super short cut I look totally cute and a little they/them and it’s been fun. I was even feeling at times, as Lizzo said, Good as Hell.

And then yesterday I started noticing more hairs leaving my head than I was, um, used to. I started practicing my head wrapping technique and I found some hats. You see I’m planning on being cancer chic. For now, I’m laughing (or crying?) at chemo because I’m looking like a true cancer patient. I have a beanie on my head and chemo coursing through my stupid port. I’m wearing my daytime pajamas. I’m attached to an IV pole and I’m considering my next hair moves. Like, do I go full shave now, like, today? Self shave job? Call in back up? It’s gonna be weird, guys. If you see me tell me I’m beautiful and that I have a beautifully shaped head.

*Trust, this was still a trauma, tears were and will be shed over my lost hair and also now what will I do with all these headbands?