This means nothing at all...

People have been coming up to me remarking on the hair change. I find it interesting that women always ask me how other people (especially a significant other) have been reacting to my hair. Men, on the other hand, mostly ask me how I feel with short hair.

Are we culturally programed as women, to directly relate our own looks to how others will react? Women are stereotypically known to be the ones that take hours in the bathroom. We own a lot of shoes, spend hours agonizing about what we are going to wear, constantly obsess with being objects of made-up perfection.

Men, seemingly, just throw things on. Maybe put a handful of product in their hair, slip on one of the 5-6 pairs of shoes and race out the door.

I've known this to be the case for a while. Its not that I am suddenly coming into this knowledge. Although I don't normally wear make-up (besides the rare occasional and random wig and eyelash day), I have been known to change my outfit at least a half dozen times before frantically running out the door. The short hair isn't exactly alleviating my need to make sure that I am not a complete embarrassment when I walk out into public. I wonder though, if its all necessary.

What I noticed most about the whole experience, is that I can no longer hide behind my hair. My hair isn't a way for me to hide my face. Every inch of my head is noticed. My ears, my nose, my random beauty marks and moles; all public parts now.

In a sense, this hair is a way for me to deal with my insecurities. It makes me come to terms with my big cheeks, cartoonishly round head, short neck and giant lips. And I'm ok with that.

Day 7

Day 6

Day 5

The Return of Photo a Day Project

Well, it might be back after all. My self-portrait a day project ended abruptly last year due to time constraints and lack of discipline. Plus, it was hard to become a new person every day through wigs, makeup and time.

Let see how long I can keep this up. It takes 21 days to make or break a habit.

Here is Day 4 of my hair regrowth journey.

(And what a terrible photo it is.)

Day 3

Waking Up on Day 2

Waking up on day two felt great. My second shower sans hair was amazing. No more styling my hair , no more shampoo, no more trying to impress everyone with the lack of hair styling knowledge.

Its just me now. I like who I am. I like what I look like. For the first time...

Rebirth: A New Beginning.

My palms had been sweating all day. Anything I touched was instantly covered in a thin layer of moisture. Typing on a keyboard and touching the mouse all day, was torture. I must have gone through half a box of tissues, made two dozen trips to the bathroom and checked my phone constantly. Until that day, I did not know how many seconds were in a minute or minutes in an hour; an eternal amount. I never knew a minute lasted that long.

The previous night and then all day long I was in an excited anxious and nervous state. I was mourning for something I had not yet lost while at the same time, trying to convince myself that it had no sentimental or essential value to me.

Five o'clock came at a nightmarishly slow pace. I gathered up my things. Stood up, grabbed a chunk of my hair, and quietly proclaimed to the coworkers sitting closest to me, "Say good-bye to this mess. Come Tuesday I may look a whole lot different."

It was 2 days since my cousin lost his battle with pancreatic cancer and almost 2 years since my good friend's death from ovarian cancer.

I drove home in a daze. The cool air from the air conditioner felt nice on my face and feet. My rear left blinker had ceased to function. I missed the fresh air flowing through my hair but I could not chance it getting all tangled. I reached into it. I curled it around my left index finger. I put it to my lips and felt each strand tickle my lips. "I hope someone else loves it and cares for it better than I do/did", I thought to myself.

I got in the shower. I attempted to get dressed but wondered what would look best on me when that night's events were over. My hands started sweating. Hand washing was not alleviating the symptoms. I was not prepared to drive as my hands would slip off the wheel thanks to the sweating. I asked Ryan to please take us to the event.

The auditorium was full of people. All faces were a blur. My heart raced. Palms; sweaty.

The speaker recounted the story of his and his wife's journey through cancer and chemo. My hands sweaty as ever. Ryan, sitting next to me, requested that I put my hand on his lap. My hands got worse. Finally the speech was over. Folks were invited to ascend the stage and get their hair clipped.

I stood at the foot of the stage waiting to go on and get things over with. Palms sweating, I stood their nervously. Mount came over to the rescue me from my fear. We joked around and made light of the situation.

After patiently waiting for my turn (and being skipped over by a few overly zealous people), I climbed into the hard white chair. My glasses had to come off as they would be in the way. The crowd of 100+ suddenly became blurry. The sound of the buzzers hummed in my ear. For the next 5-10 minutes, without the mirror or my vision, my aesthetic fate was at the mercy of the barber, the clippers and the crowd.

Random claps and shouts of support signaled the end of my experience. I put my glasses on and took the smock of, walked to the stairs and got off stage. I was showered with support and compliments. I still had no idea what I looked like and didn't care.

 And thats the start of my new beginning.

 

If you would like to know more about the event I participated in and if you'd like to donate to a great cause, check out the following site and contribute.

http://www.crowdrise.com/ChemoToxic/fundraiser/ronagelman

To New Beginnings

I cannot believe it has been 3 years since I posted here. Thats a shame. Here's to a new year and some new posts. I am hoping that this becomes a part of my daily activities.