This coming from a girl who has always had obnoxiously thick hair. A girl who stepped right out of a Doris Day movie with the lame excuse: "But I can't go out tonight, I have to stay home and wash my hair." Only it wasn't an excuse; it was a process.
It was deep conditioning, combing out, towel drying, air drying and hoping I wouldn't get too sweaty trying to blow it dry and need another shower. Now it's one swipe of the towel and 30 seconds of wig stylin'.
Last year, FOLFOX and its hair thinning abilities did what no hair stylist in this country has ever been able to do for me. It thinned my hair perfectly. I liked it. I didn't mind it. I welcomed it.
This year, FOLFURI thinned it as well, it just didn't know how to stop the party or hear the bell for last call. It just kept going. And going. Kinda like a few people I knew back in my early 20s, who shall remain nameless.
And now I sit here bald, or at least fuzzy. I never did lose all my hair, but enough that I finally gave in and buzzed it down to what turned out to be sweet relief. And I'm not exactly staring at it under a microscope every day wondering when I might see some sprouts. I have eyelashes again, so I know there's some stubble somewhere under that remaining fuzz.
And though you will always see me in a hat or in a wig, that has more to do with function and nothing to do with shame. I'd like to keep the sun from damaging at least one part of my body, so I keep it covered. I also know Merrick much prefers the wig, so I like to keep him happy.
|Sister love with the wig.|