Or bald is the new black.
I shaved my head. Actually my children did it. They argued and picked and got in each other’s way. It was fun.
Well as fun as it could be.
Now my hair is gone. It will come back soon. In the meantime I’m going to get used to this. I am.
I’m thinking about what attracts someone. Let’s all tell the truth and admit that physical attraction does play a part in choosing a partner. It just does.
I’m left thinking and wondering how someone would feel if I stood naked in front of him or her in my current state.
How would I feel?
This fucking cancer has taken so much from me. Sexually, who am I now? Does it even matter? How long will I feel this way?
I feel different. I feel less in control than I’ve ever felt. I’m floating along. Do what the cancer team tells me to do. Lay in the bed and cuddle my kids. Drown myself with fluids while trying to keep my head above water. Manage my immune system.
A certain D type person has waved that hairbrush across my Fet page and I smiled. Then I remembered. Sadness overtook me. It was strong and full of gravel. Sharp edges. Heavy. Fragile. Cold.
Breathe Kitten. This won’t last forever. I will circle back around. I’m strong enough to endure this. I will rebuild my life, soon.
Then I’ll use that hairbrush. That thought makes me very happy.
Will I feel pain again and moan with pleasure? Will I ever strip myself naked? Really naked? Naked and raw? Stark and pale, with all my flaws glaring? Will I ever feel like I felt before, back when I was that other girl? Or is that gone forever? Will it be replaced with some other thing, something new and unfamiliar? I’m not sure.
I’m just not sure.
But that’s okay because I think right now its fine to not be sure about a great many things.
I haven’t knitted in a very long time. I’m knitting myself a cute little hat. I’m thinking lots. I’m managing my symptoms. I’m finally finally trying to be nice to myself. I’m trying to be graceful with the help I’ve received. I’m looking forward to this weekend’s yard sale.
Oh my gosh, the amount of women that have helped organize and donate. I’m simply overwhelmed with gratitude.
So this journal turned out to be about more than just my hair, or rather lack of hair.