Why does hair matter so much? It does, though. And the biggest struggle (besides fighting for my life and confronting my mortality head-on) has been hair loss. The first time I lost my hair, I ALWAYS wore a wig. This time around, I pitched the wig far earlier in my hair re-growth. But every time I look in the mirror, I see a woman who is/was SICK. That short hair represented cancer and chemo and treatment. Illness. Close to death's door. Today, I bleached my hair. If I'm going to have short hair, I'm going to OWN IT and ROCK IT.
I have to admit, there are times that I look in the mirror and I am terrified by what I see. It is a reminder that life is not normal, that I am not the same, that I am broken. And I HATE IT. What cancer does is it robs you of your sanity. Every time I sneeze or get a bruise or my shoulders hurt, I think "Does this mean something BIG and BAD?"
...And then I talk myself off a cliff. Breathe. I am alive. I will WIN. I will OVERCOME. And I will LIVE every day as if this is all I have. Because maybe today is my last. And, really, perhaps it's your last, my dear reader. None of us ever know. Because life is normal, until it's not. And when that day comes is anyone's guess.
So today, rock on, warrior.