What looks like an ordinary selfie, was actually taken for me to have as a memory. This picture marks the first time I blow dried and did my hair since surgery AND will also likely be the last time I do so with this head of hair.
People have asked me how I feel about losing my hair. Like most of this journey so far, it feels surreal and I honestly don’t think I’ll fully connect with it until I’m in the moment. But, standing in front of the mirror it hit me. I’m going to lose my fucking hair. So, I took this pic.I
love my hair. I love how I can wear it curly or straight. I love how throughout the year, I change its color as an expression of who I am. I love sitting in Natalie‘s chair for hours while we chat and she brings my hair dreams to life. I love how over the years it has been all different lengths and styles.
Trust me, I know all the things….like….it’s just hair….and it’ll grow back….and maybe I can rock some fun wigs….and maybe it’ll grow back in a way I really love….
Honestly, those are all the thoughts I’ve had when seeing other people go through this. And now, I don’t want to hear it.
Because I know now, it’s not about the hair. Just like the mastectomy wasn’t about the boobs (well, sort of).
It’s about loss. It’s about being mad as hell that cancer will be taking another thing away from me. That’s what it’s really about for me, in this moment.
I start chemotherapy on Wednesday and will likely start losing my hair in the next couple weeks. I know that losing my hair will mean the medicine is doing it’s job, which should make me happy, but instead, makes me mad and sad. It’s a really bizarre twisted feeling.
So yes, the hair will grow back and I may rock some crazy ass wigs or fun hats. I don’t know. What I do know for sure, is that it isn’t about the hair.
(Thank you to my hubby for knowing I’d want this moment more than I even knew, and for giving me the idea to do my hair before it’s gone. I love you for that and I’m so grateful.)