It's Just Hair

"It's just hair" was something I finally managed to convince myself the first time I truly went short on purpose. There were several other times in the prior to that occasion when I had short hair, but it wasn't because I said "here make my hair look like this" it was because of accidents - and once a stylist was having a super bad day and I wasn't going to tell the angry lady with scissors to please calm down. That first triumphant success started a tradition of cutting my hair in summer, then letting it grow out. Until last year.

Last year, after being diagnosed, I didn't know what to do about a whole lot of things. I didn't know if I'd need chemo. If I did, I knew for sure that I had one friend who was willing to shave her head with me and I was tentatively planning a Furiosa cosplay. But I had no idea. My hair was just past shoulder length at time of surgery and after a few days, I wish I had cut it because it got gross. I couldn't shower for a week. Dry shampoo was too little, too late by the time we tried it (and it didn't help that Jason and I had no fucking clue what we were doing). Also I couldn't lift my arms above my head yet so it was all him.

Anyway, I think sometime in June, maybe July I got a call that one test had come back with good results, so they were sending it for another one, an Oncotype test. That one tests many things and then spits out a score that determines, along with other factors, if you need chemotherapy. More time passed and I finally heard back - the score was good! BUT...a medical oncologist still needed to determine whether it was good enough to not need chemo. I'll spare you all that drama, but the 2nd opinion trusted the science - so much so that she invited a person who works for the testing company to an appointment so they could go over charts, graphs, and other related information to show us why she trusted the science. Then came radiation and it was just awful. by the time it was done, it was no longer my "season" so to speak.

In February of this year, I got a trim, just a few inches. I didn't know what I wanted yet. Then came Avengers: Endgame. Seriously, look at Captain Marvel's hair! It's amazing! #Hairspiration for days!

Brie Larson as Captain Marvel. My #hairspiration. 

Look at her! So badass! Ready to do whatever
it takes to bring down Thanos & his army.

 I finally knew what I wanted, but I also knew that the last time I had a similar cut, my hair went into wild, curly waves and I had no idea what to do with it. So I booked an appointment at Arcane Hair Parlour with Katie, on the suggestion of a friend. This way, I'd get the cut I wanted or as close to it as possible, and someone to teach me what to do with it. On appointment day, she'd also been looking at photos, and we figured out exactly what to take from the look & apply it to my head. And it worked out pretty great...

Day of cut, finished mostly straight.

Over a month later, on my own, I decided to use a box 'o dye with a color called Midnight Iris. I'd always let myself be talked out of super dark shades. But I kinda wanted some blue, and I decided if not now, when? So I went for it. And to my pleasant delight, it also worked out great. (Otherwise, I'd have had to contact Katie, fess up to having used the dye I admitted to having, and then spend a shit ton of money having her fix my mistake.)

I feel a little goofy writing about my hair, but, as odd as it may sound to some of you, this was a big deal. Cutting my hair felt like reclaiming another part of myself from this bullshit cancer "journey" I've been on for over a year. Yeah, taking care of it is a little more work, but it's worth it. Not only because of the reclaiming bit, but it also feels really great. I'm trying salon products for the first time in my life and, uh, yeah. They're totally worth it.

"It's just hair," doesn't have quite the same flippancy to it anymore, because while it is 'just hair' and will grow back, to me, last summer, it was the difference between chemo or no chemo. The start of some horrifying process to kill the cancer or getting to skip it. I got to skip it. And now, I fucking love my hair.

Me looking a bit sassy with my midnight iris locks.