(Going) Bald Is Beautiful
I’m writing this on Tuesday. It’s my birthday today! While my age doesn’t end in a zero or a five, it’s a milestone nonetheless. Every birthday for the rest of my life will be a milestone. So I asked bff Nikki to throw me a party over the weekend.
And yesterday, I made her and Lunch Lady Bob shave my head. I’ve been cutting it shorter and shorter over the past few weeks. It’s so messy while it’s falling out. And the left side was looking way more cancer-y than the right. So it was time. New year; new hairdo.
I’ve never had the gorgeous, glossy hair of a Cosmo pinup or an Instagram sensation, but I’ve certainly always enjoyed having plenty to work with up there. It framed my face, hid some flaws, got all blonde and pretty in the summer, and – as I’ve recently learned in its absence – kept me warm. I loved a lazy-day ponytail. I enjoyed breaking out the curling iron on special occasions. And after a lifetime of searching, I found the perfect hairdresser at Tami’s. Jacky has kept me feeling good about myself for about 15 years now. Even in the past year, when I haven’t had enough hair to style, she’s helped me turn it interesting colors without making me feel like a muppet. She’s a genius.
Purple was fun... while it lasted.
But as I said, it was time.
So there we were, hanging out at Bob’s. I handed over the clippers and told Bob and Nikki to use my head as their canvas. Go crazy guys, because it will all be gone by the end of the night.
Be careful what you ask for. Be especially careful when you’re asking Nikki and Bob for it. It was a ridiculous evening, turning a really difficult moment in my life (losing my hair for the third time) into a mildly inappropriate, highly entertaining riot. Instead of shaving my head myself, alone in my bathroom while sobbing, I was crying tears of laughter and gasping for air.
These are my people. And this is my head. If I can’t control what happens with the latter, I’m sure glad I have such a natural affinity for choosing the former.