Sunday, May 17, 2020

Losing my locks.

After chemo, I was thrilled to get my hair back. Even when it was just the barest Sinead O'Connoresque suggestion of hair. And when it got just a little longer, I loved the ease of the super short style. But by then it was starting to curl and I decided I would ride the chemo curl train wherever it took me. Over time, however, the curls have loosened and I had reached a point where my hair was its original straightness except for curls right at the ends. It was unmanageable without a headband and I stopped enjoying it. So this morning, my husband agreed to give me the same cut he did right before I started chemo, in advance of losing my hair. It was odd to see the mass of hair, which is surprisingly dark for someone pushing 60. (Okay, I'm 57. I'm just getting myself used to the idea of being in my 60's.)
After the haircut, we headed out for a short hike to take advantage of the glorious weather we've been having lately. No regrets - I can now step out of the shower and dry my hair almost instantly with a towel. I may never go back to long hair.

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