So I was sitting out on the front porch today, watching the kids ride bikes in the street. I happened to have my hair down (falling out of ponytail, had to fix). It's really long, strawberry blonde, thick, kick ass awesome hair. I've always really liked my hair, even going so far as to say I'd never dye it because holy crap, what if I couldn't get it back to its normal color?? My master plan has always been to just leave it alone, getting it cut when I feel like it, and hoping that eventually it will turn white like my Aunt Bob's hair did. I think I could really rock white hair with some crotchety old ladyness. Yeah, yeah, I've been talking about cutting it for a while now. Yes, I've been wishy washy and putzing around and being indecisive about a hair style. There's such a huge difference though between cutting it because I want to and cutting it because the thought of extra long strands of hair falling out all over the place is unappealing. And freaky.
I want to donate it to Locks of Love. I can't imagine NOT doing that, especially now.
I'm not sure I'm ready to sport a short hair cut. The whole losing hair thing is so weird. I keep wondering bizarre stuff, like will my hair grow back in the same color? Is my leg hair going to also fall out? I have to admit, the idea of not shaving isn't so bad. Will my hair still be curly? It was straight before children, and I'm just finally getting used to it being so curly. I'm going to look goofy bald, I just know it.
That's lame stuff to worry about in the scheme of things. I realize that. Fuck you, cancer, for forcing me to cut my kick ass long red hair before I was ready. And you better not screw it up. I'll be pretty pissed if you do.