Over the last several weeks, Scott and I (or friends and I) would have the repeated conversation of “is it time…?” and sometimes we’d vascillate within the same day with whether the answer was yes or no. Though the answer varied by person and by day, the question was always the same, “is it time… to cut my hair?” Somedays I’d feel good about it in the morning but not so confident by evening. And never confident if I looked at the back of my head in the mirror – though friends wisely told me that few people are standing above my head looking down at it with the scrutiny with which I would examine it in the mirror. And, week after week, there seemed to be another reason not to cut it – a friend’s 40th birthday party one weekend and then another friend’s 50th birthday party. I didn’t want to turn their party into my pity-party by showing up in a room of folks I didn’t all know with a wig or bald or a scarf or whatever. So, I continued to postpone the inevitable. But, this week, as Scott and I waited for chemo, I said again, “is it time?” and he replied, “I think it’s time.” So, I called right then and made an appointment. I had also lived with a nagging fear of having a day in which I REALLY felt like ‘it was time’ followed by the thought: “what if that day comes and Alonzo is out of town or booked?” So once our mind was made up, I was ready to get it done. And ready to put an end to the debate and mirror analysis. And an end to the wad of hair in the drain, constant shaking of the bathroom mat, wiping hair off the sink, toilet rim, tub basin and anything else within 5 feet of where I brushed or dried my hair. It wasn’t fun to see my hair in the dishwasher, pillow or on Linc’s high chair or food. Gross. It was time. And, now, I’ll have a lot more time as I no longer have to do any drying or styling or shampooing.
Alonzo has been cutting my hair for over 15 years now. And, I’ve seen him a lot more lately as we’ve gone from long to shoulders and then to short and now to bald. He’s been a champ. And, now, in support, he’s also bald. As is my friend Mandy’s husband, Leonard. I didn’t really intend to have a party at the salon but that’s what evolved. Caring friends came to walk yet another step of this journey with me – with tears and, what else, but cupcakes and milk? Thanks, Cheryl. I was a bit teary as we headed in but Scott grabbed me again and said, “this is the right thing, babe – it’s time” which helped – as well as a lot of hugs that awaited me inside. It was a team effort between Scott and Zo. I asked them to start from the back and save what was left of my bang’s for last but, as it progressed, it was far less painful than I feared. Come to find out Scott kind of liked his short stint as a barber. I did too when Zo returned the favor and let me shave his head. And I’ll give credit to these “Aarons and Hurs” in the salon for taking what could have been a hard day and making it a sweet day…
…With friends like these, who needs hair?!
And, as it turns out, Linc looks more like his Mama than ever.
Thanks for continued support, encouragement, and PINK LOVE!