I lack patience with hair. Whether myself or someone else is working on it, I can hardly sit still long enough for my hair to be styled. I suppose it's because it's not worth it to me to spend so much time on something that won't last long enough for me to get from the bathroom mirror to the car. Throughout the years, I've ponytailed it, headbanded it, crimped it, iron curled it, iron straightened it, hot-rolled it, pin-curled it, french-twisted it, bunned it, stuck it with decorative sticks, and clawed it, and all of these things eventually just gave me a headache. It's rare that I even blow it dry, because I have both children, and a warped sense of time management, which makes hair styling even less of a priority for me.
I'm not even capable of styling other people's hair: I dread when my husband wants me to "clean up" the back of his head after a home cut. Ever since my daughter has been old enough, she's been on her own as far as washing, brushing, and prettying her own locks. The times that require my help don't turn out well. For Halloween, I dyed my daughter's hair black with fuchsia streaks. It was a mess, and not at all consistently colored. And I can wet down and fine-tooth comb my son's mop top, but it still sticks out and generally looks like he rode in the car with his head out the window (Attention Department of Social Services: he didn't. He rode safely buckled into his size-appropriate LATCH-fastened car seat that has never been in an accident.).
It has now been over 24 hours since my hair was shaved away, and it's refreshing to not have it. Quite cold as well, but mostly refreshing. It took almost no time to wash - rubbing a pea-sized dollop of shampoo over my stubble - and only barely longer than that to air-dry. I had nothing to comb, and no tresses to fuss over when I made my last mirror-check before leaving the house. I didn't need to hold it out of the way as I put my coat and scarf on. I didn't scramble around the house to find a clip or band in case I needed to put my hair up later on. I got to wear a hat without worrying about static. There were no frustrated tucks of strands behind my ears or brushes of my hand to move my hair off my shoulders - again. It was liberating.
Despite the good-natured teases from family and friends (my daughter's nickname for me is "Baldo"), and extra stares from strangers, I'm enjoying the baldness. Without my hair, I don't have to even attempt to be a hairdresser.
There's more: In the midst of all this, I haven't forgotten that I chose to not have hair. Each time I've absentmindedly reached up to twirl my hair, having momentarily forgotten that it's gone, I consider the fact that while I'm not saddened by that, there are others who are saddened by their hair loss; others who didn't have a choice. I can only remain optimistic that the money raised will help researchers find a cure, and that with that cure no one else will have to lose their hair.
