The Hair

You know, I really wasn’t that upset about my hair. Evelyn was upset about my hair. I was kinda looking forward to wearing all sorts of colors that I’ve never had.

It’s like when you tell people you have cancer and the first thing everyone says is “I’m sorry.” It’s a fine reaction but you get it a lot and usually, it’s said sadly. I get it. I’ve done it, in fact. But now I’m wearing cancer like a badge and I can only handle so many opinions before I fall apart over it.

I mean, my kids were making fun of me in the bath when I walked in without anything on my head. “I like the wig better.” I’m sure you do but what do you want me to say? I’m trying to do what makes me feel comfortable, and I know I don’t look great or it looks fake. It takes me some courage to go out and exist when literally everyone you meet knows you have some kind of cancer.

I’m going to look different. It’s not going to be what you’re used to. It’s weird for me to look in the mirror, I understand. But hearing everyone’s preferences doesn’t make me feel very good. I wish I had my hair, too, but I don’t get a choice in the matter. Fine if you like me bald better, but it’s hard to hear when I might not feel the same.

I know people mean well. Maybe I’m just crabby or a little scared of chemo: round II. My appearance is just one of those things I take a little too personally. I’m sure I’ll feel better about it in the morning. xoxo