On Thursday, I got my hair cut in a big way. I had worn it long for years, and I was ready for a change. So I decided to donate to Locks of Love. It was a no-brainer thing until I was in the salon, wet hair rubber banded at the top and bottom, braided, ready to be cut off and sent in the mail. Then my hair stylist went to get the industrial scissors (you need those?), and I sat there, looking at my braid.
What is it like for girls who have no choice what their hair is like? For girls who just watch it fall out by the fistful and don't get it back until months after chemo, when it grows thin and fuzzy and short? I guess I never thought about being grateful for my hair.
And then I was like you know what, let's do this. You may think I'm silly, but it took courage to cut off my hair, a big part of my identity, for a new identity. And maybe even the chance that someone else could have a new identity. So yes, I felt brave. And excited.
And then the lady came back with the industrial scissors (you have really thick hair, she said). And that was that! Now I have a braid sitting on my bedroom shelf waiting to be mailed in, and a short haircut that I love. Nice and short and cute for the summer. And maybe somewhere a girl will have a wig to wear and put bows in and feel like she has a new identity just like me.
And that's my entire blog post about hair.
P.S. it now takes 2 minutes flat to do my hair.
Air dry during breakfast,
add a little hairspray,
done.
Best part.