I cried today. A lot.
Melinda handled it gracefully. She has been doing my hair since 2006. She’s walked me through styling lessons; red streaks, brown streaks, purple streaks, blue streaks; gray roots coverage; bangs, no bangs, bangs again. She has patiently handled my tantrums when i couldn’t get my hair to lay right after a new style, taught me how to braid (i already forgot), and given me professional up-dos for i-don’t-know-how-many formal events.
And today, she chopped off years of her hard work.
I had to do it. I didn’t want to. I have had long hair almost every single year of my life. It’s a part of my feminine identity, and i wasn’t ready to let that part go. However, the thought of my long locks falling out in large clumps once chemo drugs took effect made me sick to my stomach. I had a choice: drag myself through this painful, arduous process of losing my hair slowly; or proactively take control, cutting it all off now and donating it to Locks of Love. When i put it in that perspective, the choice seemed obvious.
… but that doesn’t mean i didn’t mourn the loss.