The last time I mentioned my hair here, it was February and I was bidding farewell to my winter mullet. Not much has changed with my hair since then. I've purposely kept it short, enjoying the relative easiness of this style and not having any hair on my neck when the forecast looks like this:
It goes on like that ad infinitum, except the lows start creeping up into the 90s and then we all spontaneously combust. I literally found a fried egg on our back deck the other day. I assume it was a bird that committed suicide rather than be born in Phoenix right now? On that note, I should probably let the cat in for the night.
I got a text from my friend Alana the other day, letting me know that her daughter, my goddaughter Grace, was in the process of cutting off several inches of hair for Locks of Love in my honor. Grace is nine. Hair is abundantly important to most pre-teen girls. This was no small thing, I realized. And my eyes immediately welled up with tears, I was so moved by this beautiful child's gesture.
Inspired by Grace, I made a decision that I'd try to grow my hair out to do the same again. It's what I did with my hair when I initially cut it off for chemo nearly three years ago, and it might take me another three years to grow it long enough to donate enough to help make someone's wig. But it is a small thing I can do (assuming the stars align and remission stays with me).
Between now and then, get ready for the awkward phase between pixie and bob. I have a feeling I'm going to be investing in buckets of bobby pins in the coming months. I'll keep you all posted through it all, of course.