I've never been one to spend much time on my hair. Pull it back, flip it up, insert clips, and let the ends curl as they may. Five minutes max. It's out of my face, no fuss and on to bigger and better things.
Then comes the haircut.
Then wisps of hair left lying behind. Fingers full of hair at the slightest itch. Shower drains clogged with hair. And finally the shaving before it gets any worse.
Oh my.
Even though I spent little time on it (and have already gone through the cut/shave/regrow process 13 years ago), I'm still amazed at how much of my sense of self is wrapped up in hair. It will regrow. I know this. This thought is what keeps me smiling even when I see the shocked looks on the faces of acquaintances who haven't heard my diagnosis, or the kids' dentist, the lady at the check-out counter at the grocery store, and even Lane's sweet little classmates. I wonder if they think I've maybe gone off the deep end? Decided to go for a drastic new hair cut? Or maybe the hairstylist made a big mistake and had to take it all off? I guess I'll have to recommend they avoid letting their husbands get anywhere near their hair. Not worth the savings in avoiding a hairstylist...Ha!(:
Still, it is the kids that keep us laughing. The last time I was bald, I remember being in the women's dorms at a church convention. A little girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, took one look at me and in a very horrified voice informed me that there were no boys allowed in the girls dorm.
"No," I assured the little girl, "I'm a girl."
"Then PROVE it!" she insisted.
I looked at my friend Janell for help only to see her doing her level best to avoid rolling on the floor in laughter.
"Ummm....I'm wearing a skirt?"
She was barely convinced.
This time around, I've been even more aware of kids and their honesty. They haven't learned to moderate their responses or try to be politically correct. They're curious and not afraid to admit it. While adults often avoid even commenting on my hats, kids have no qualms. As I was picking Lane up early for a dentist appointment, one of his classmates came up and gave me a hug, looked at me curiously and said, "I like your new hat Ms. Jeannie!"
My own kids have informed me I look like Daddy. Logan took it a step further this morning. While he was playing with his trucks I heard him muttering.
"We have 4 boys in my family."
"No, we have 3 boys and 2 girls," I replied.
"Nope. Only Morgan is a girl. You're a boy, just like Daddy!"