To100DaysAndBeyond: Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

I am not sure what this entry will be about, but I have a feeling that it'll be a hairy tail (sorry, that is such a bad pun. Get it, fairytale?). Today is 14 days after my last chemo treatment and I keep waiting for my hair to fall out. My scalp had been feeling tender and when my massage therapist so kindly came to the hospital to work on me, she asked if I wanted a head massage and I automatically said "Yes!" Who would say no to that? But as she was giving me the massage, I couldn't stop worrying that my hair would come out in clumps in her hands and she'd run away screaming. But it didn't, and she didn't. The last time it fell out was in August and despite further treatments, my hair has continued to grow in since.

The first time my hair fell out was the hardest. That's obviously hard for anyone; hence the widespread sales of Propecia and Rogaine. But I did what a lot of women do during chemo, I cut things off at the pass (yet another pun!) and I shaved my head, and then called the wig guy. But if I am honest, completely honest, I have to say that it was kind of nice not to have to "hassle" with my hair, even if it was just for a little while.

I have had all sorts of hair. I have had no hair, short hair, bobs. Farrah Fawcett feathers, uneven hair (thank you Cindy Lauper), very long hair and in lots of different colors. I have had touches of red, green, and pink. But I will always think of myself as a blonde. I come from a long line of blondes. I remember a beautiful hand-painted photograph of my mother when she was quite young with blonde banana curls my grandmother had hand twisted. My sister had gorgeous blonde silk hair offset so exotically by dreamy deep brown eyes. And I was a little blondie too. Later, Junior High was spent lying in the sun, spraying Sun-In and squeezing lemons into our hair. Then, in High School, the blonde highlights began. Big Guns. Since then, I've had chunky highlights, thin highlights, overlays, half heads, whole heads, ash blonde, golden blonde, dark blonde and very burnt out blonde.

So after my hair grew back, it was the first time in my life I saw its REAL color. And boy, by comparison, IT WAS DARK! But it was healthy and soft, and bouncy, and fresh. So I left it's color alone for two years and embraced accessories as closely as I had embraced hats when I was bald. And then after I"d moved to London and relapsed, and then waited for my hair grew back in again, I snapped. I went to Clairette and I said, "Make me blonde!". And she said, "Mais, Oui!" So now I am blonde again, and it's really no big deal. Blonde, brown, grey, colorful, bald, it's just hair (or lack thereof). And even though there are approximately 14,000 salons in the United Kingdom and 670,000 barbers and salons in the United States, (thanks Google), I would hope that everyone who walks into one loves themselves, no matter how their hair turns out that day...

And so, last night I stumbled through my pictures with Allison, who is staying the week with me here in the hospital, and tried to pull out a timeline of my hair. Just for amusement's sake.

PERFECT HAIR