Last night, in the company of family and friends (and a good amount of chocolate), I got to take back a little bit of control of what's happening to my body. My hair started coming out in earnest at the beginning of the week and by Thursday I was left feeling too patchy on top to go out without a scarf covering it up. I had already decided ahead of time that when it became apparent that my hair was not sticking around it would be time for a hair-cutting party.
I invited friends and family to join me in taking it all off - and yes, I meant to phrase it that way. As 7pm approached last night I wasn't sure what to expect. Because of short-notice and sniffles, several of my close friends and family members could not make it. I started to feel like maybe not many people would bother to come and that perhaps I had made a mistake (especially considering the fact that I didn't even have a good pair of scissors or a trimmer). And so I just told God how I felt about it. Within minutes Melissa called to say she was on her way and bringing an entire hair-cutting kit with her. I told her how perfect her timing was.
Then my party guests started arriving. They came with hats & scarves - as requested by me for a group photo; and they came with gifts, for which I was totally unprepared. Andrea read a list of the top ten reasons why being bald is hot and that got the laughs started. At times I caught a few friends getting a little watery eyed during the night, but for the most part it was a riot. Once I took off my scarf, which was a little like exposing myself, I knew I could do this.
My mother started the cutting by giving me bangs, which if you knew me as a child you might be able to picture the end result. My sons each took turns giving my hair a cut as did everyone else, and my husband helped buzz my hair down to some sort of G.I. Jane status. I could see my reflection in the living room tv and although the first few cuts were the hardest, the rest took on a sort of fun feel. When I finally saw the end result I could honestly smile, because it was much easier to see myself this way then it had been to see myself with clumps of hair missing. I was also incredibly relieved to find out I have a nicely shaped head - no unsightly lumps or moles (you've gotta find something to be happy about here).
Several of the party goers have checked in with me today to see if the laughs of last night gave way to tears today. I could honestly tell them that I'm still smiling. When I see my shaved head in the mirror I see a warrior. I see a chemo-kicking soldier who has been called up to active duty and is tapping into reserves of strength that I did not know I have. I do, however, know where my strength comes from. My strength comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. And He, like my husband, still thinks I am beautiful.
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