Well with Spring right around the corner, I decided to get my hair trimmed.
This sounds like a simple statement. But considering the hair loss from the cancer and the fact that I’ve had long hair most all my life, it was a kind of a big thing for me.
Now don’t get me wrong, I loved my bald head. It was sensual and exciting. But at the same time I was sick and miserable. It didn’t have the fun factor at the time I needed to keep it that way.
So I waited it out. All through the odd and awkward stages of hair growth, not a trim did it get.
I was going for length here. And I got it. All the way to my butt. But once there it was weak and scraggily at the ends.
For the first year or so of the long hair it was curly enough to hide that fact but as my hair thinned out this past winter (Summer is my hair growing time of year.) I felt that it was time to clean it up and make it look nicer.
I don’t go to the hair dressers, partly because I’m frugal and partly because they always cut off far more than I want cut. (What is with their need to cut long hair off?)
And so out came the scissors. Mountain Man kindly assisted as my guide and hands at different parts of this story. (I would not see my daughter before I wanted this done, so I went with hubby who had helped me cut off my hair just before the chemo took it.)
No Matter how or who was cutting, it just didn’t hang strait.
So in the end the hair that was down to my butt is now only just below the shoulders. The trim turned into a cut, and most of my curly post cancer hair is gone.
I’m now still trying to get used to it. My long braid I was used to sleeping with is gone. A short stumpy one in its place.
It is not so short that I can’t still put it up. But the piles of hair are no longer there to play with and style. I’ve wanted to cry since the day we did the deed.
I know it will grow back, given time, but I’m emotionally attached to my hair.