It’s gone! My hair…it’s all gone! Well, not all of it. Just 12 inches. Just one foot. Just 30.48 centimeters.
Surprisingly, the sudden snip-snip-snip wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. It fact, it was very quick and almost painless. Almost. But the ensuing shampoo and scalp massage quickly eased the shock.
It’s for a good cause. Inspired by a former colleague, Jen Glass, I’m sending my hair off to Locks of Love. For the past year, Jen has been battling lung cancer − diagnosed just mere months after her wedding day. In the face of it all, she bravely shares her experiences, refusing to let the illness bring out her paranoia about things like hair or prevent her from honeymooning in Spain.
Just like Jen’s hair post-chemo, my hair will grow. I’d gotten quite attached to it, and I’d prefer not to have it so short, but hair grows. Anyway, it’s a new look, which fits into my current addiction for all things new and exciting. Hair grows. It’s hot out here in the tropics anyway, and the length had gotten beyond manageable. Hair grows.
Watching the stylist work some magic into my new do, I nervously watch shiny silver scissors sending even more hair to the floor. My hair. That grows.
Inhale. I imagine how much faster my showers will be, how much time I’ll save on my hair routine, how this new bob will fly about my head pleasantly with the wind. Exhale.
I walk out of the salon feeling light. Considering I usually only change my ‘do this drastically after breakups or during major life transitions, this cut brings me a strangely funny/nice feeling. I walk out confidently into the sunshine. Hair grows.
If you’re interested in donating your hair, please visit http://www.locksoflove.org.