Hair-o-pocalypse

Happy November greetings! It's that time of the year in central Minnesota when the leaves are all falling off the trees, the geese are flying South, and everything is looking more and more barren. How appropriate then, that this past week, my hair began to mimic Mother Nature. The trees and I have really been having our moment trying to cling to our last remaining foliage. Last Saturday, however, I faced reality, called my local salon, and had them cut my hair down to 3/4".

It was a humbling experience to say the least. I have never had my hair buzzed before. I have never worn it short, so going from 50 miles per hair to 0 mph was really drastic. I thought about asking for a pixie cut or a Kris Kardashian hairdo to give my brain time to acclimate, but ultimately, I didn't want to keep seeing hair all over the place and live in denial of what was to come. Let me just say that it was a peaceful moment. It was soft. The buzz of the razor felt measured and even. The hair just lightly fell away. When I looked into the mirror, what did I think about?

First thought: Oh gosh, this is pretty awful looking.
Second thought:  Anne Frank (and all the Jews who had their hair cut off during the Holocaust)
Third thought: You can't feel sorry for yourself when you think about Anne Frank because her life = always worse.

Needless to say, I put my bestie Heather on really quick.We are like two peas in a pod now, but she gets irritating sometimes, and when that happens I have to put her away in the cabinet and lounge around in beanie caps. Here we are at the end of the salon session looking presentable though.

There are some ironies regarding the great hair-o-pocalypse. For one, I am trying to save every last eyebrow and eyelash like they are some kind of endangered species. My sister can attest to our many conversations about facial hair woes that we lamented about in the past, but now? Now, I'm hoping that my Austrian European ancestry kicks in and that those suckers stay put. Take a look a this picture of my grandmother (center) with her sister and brother....

Are they related to Frida Kahlo? Maybe not, but these folks have some serious dark hair, eyes, and eyebrows that I think I inherited. Let's hope that roots run deep and that I get to keep what they sold me down the genetic line as long as I can during this cancer process. I sure hope they are rooting for me in spirit!

Lastly, I have gone back to work, which deserves it's own post, and I have been feeling good and scheduling some fun activities for myself, so no, I don't think about hair all the time, but it has been on the forefront this week, so I will share one last hair picture taken last night. Some friends from work and I attended a play based on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein at a local university, and all of us are in the wig phase with cancer, except Barb, so we brought a wig for her to wear just so she wouldn't feel left out. Guess what...she wore it! Bet you can't even tell which one she is! :)

Love and light,
Jennifer