Hair

I've almost always had long hair. Long, like down to my bra strap long. I wear it in a ponytail half the time and the other half, I pull it back. I don't like a lot of hair in my face. Styles over the years have ranged with differing versions of long hair. Mullets, bangs, layers and even Jennifer Aniston's signature look, etc. have all been in my style repertoire. I cut it once on a whim in Bend, Oregon. My thought process was centered on ease of maintenance. How great would it be to have short hair that I could just wash, shake and go. I went from very long hair to very short hair, and I loved it.....for a month. When I found out that short hair needed a lot of attention with gel, style, multiple and frequent haircuts, and the reversal of the inevitable bedhead, I realized I had made a grave mistake. Short hair was high maintenance. I exiled my head under a baseball cap until it grew back. I love the versatility of long hair. I can pull it back, curl it, braid it, color it, up-do it, or my most favorite....do nothing with it. I like options.

In 1987, Sinead O'Connor released "The Lion and the Cobra" CD. She caused quite a stir with her "Nothing Comapres 2 U" video. The talk of the town was "Did you see the bald chick on MTV?" She was beautiful and I was inspired to shave my head because of her. Ever since then, I have wanted to shave it all off. I was never brave enough. After all, Sinead had a face that could pull that off and a successful music career to finance a quiver of wigs and hairpieces in case she got tired of her bald look. I was 21 and living in a skitown. I was sure I would frostbite my ears.

I found a hundred reasons to talk myself out of it and did.

There's no getting out of it this time. Cytoxan, one of the chemotherapeutic agents used to treat my cancer is classicly known for it's side effect of hair loss. Dramatic hair loss. Like, hairless-cat-like hair loss. That means everything. Eyebrows, eyelashes, arm hair, leg hair, pubic hair, mole hair, nose hair, underarm hair, and the peach fuzz on the nape of my neck. One word comes to mind: slippery. I'm going to have to use a non-greasy emollient cream. The good news is we will save all kinds of money in hair removal products and Marek's dream of the Brazilian bikini wax will finally come true.

However, I have an issue with watching my hair fall out little by little. It's a degradation of sorts. Pulling my hair out in clumps on a daily basis will be the obvious effect that Cancer and the treatment is having on me. My life is changing. No doubt about it, but rather than painstakingly suffering the changes day by day, I would rather just face them and be done with it. I am at war, and waiting for the enemy to come to my doorstep is just putting off the inevitable. I would rather run straight at it.

That is why, 5-10 of my friends are coming over today and shaving my head. My long, brunette locks are coming off today and I am going for the G.I. Jane look. I'm a little sad. Change is hard. While I will still be the same on the inside, there is no denying that the rest of the world will perceive me differently. The world still has its stigmas and stereotypes and I am sure that there will be moments where I will have to stand against inaccurate presuppositions. I fear more for my daughters. Do they have the steadfast werewithal to be able to handle the onslaught of questions that will be hurled upon them in unfamiliar environments? Or the confidence in me to endure despite the onlookers and random sympathies of strangers....("I'm so sorry." "How long have you been sick?") I want to protect my kids and with a bald head and a fresh can of whoop ass, I will be inclined to strike when provoked. The effort to remain poised and calm will be harder than ever for all of us because my illness is now expressed outwardly. Certainly, a smile goes a long way in softening the outward expression of a life-changing illness, but this too will be difficult as the tendency for me to draw within will be just a little stronger. Open, outward attempts to engage others will be a little more daunting. The true test of losing my hair will be the test of whether or not I am comfortable in my own skin. The honest answer is "I don't know." I like to think that I am comfortable with who I am, the choices I've made and the way of life I choose. But under intense scrutiny....I have no idea. Whatever being bald brings, the good news is hair grows back and I have every intention of not being a cancer patient forever. There will be vast opportunities presenting themselves each day. I hope I don't miss them. One thing I do know is that I am durable and that I don't have to stand against the scrutiny alone. That helps.