Making the Cut

When I was 13 I decided to walk a mile up the road and get my hair cut at the Hair Cuttery. I don't remember why I felt the need to walk a mile by myself to cut my hair - maybe I was being rebellious or trying to express my independence. Or maybe I just really wanted a hair cut. But for whatever reason, at that time I felt a strong urge to make that solo trek. I didn't intend on doing anything drastic. Just a trim. But somehow my "just a trim" got lost in translation and resulted in an above the chin bob. I was devastated. Traumatized. I ran home, crying the entire way.

It's been 15 years and I've never gone back to a Hair Cuttery and I've never had short hair again.

Until today.

Today I cut off 10 inches of my hair and donated it to Wigs for Kids. Originally, I was donating to Locks of Love but I found out that they end up selling most of the donated hair for a profit. And the wigs they do end up making, they usually sell to the the kid's family. Wigs are expensive. Human hair wigs are outrageously expensive. The last thing a parent should have to worry about is how to come up with $2000 so their kid can have some sense of normalcy. So Wigs for Kids it is.

When I told people I was going to cut off all my hair, a lot of people asked me "why?" Why go through something so traumatizing right now? But I have good hair. Really good hair. Long and unprocessed. I could probably make a small fortune selling it on the black market. But there is no way I'm going to let cancer let my good hair go to waste. Cutting it before chemo takes it from me gives me some kind of control of the situation. Besides, when you're told you're going to spend the next year of your life rocking a bald head, short hair no longer seems so scary. Plus, a little girl with cancer now gets to rock my awesome hair. Eventually, I'll get it back anyway.

Here's a preview of my new 'do: