Hair today, Gone tomorrow....

This photo is from the wig party we went to back in September. Who knew wigs would become such a big topic in my life?

I was smart to not take my hair out of the Pippi braids all day yesterday. No more trauma. I was not equipped to resist hysteria.

I had no choice this morning. I had to wash the hair before I went to teach. Combing my hair, very gently mind you, resulted in it coming out in clumps. Whereas yesterday, about 20 strands would come out at a time, this morning it was more like 50-60. It felt like I was, once again, starring in a horror movie and couldn't escaoe. I held the hair in my hand, staring blindly at it before dropping it in the trash can.

In the shower, I gently used the special shampoo that Anaise sent me, especially formulated for cancer patients. I conditioned my rapidly depleting locks. Despite my carefulness, my hair continued to fall out. Whipping open the shower curtain, I happened to glance down and screamed at what appeared to be a tarantula crouched on my hip. The positive: it wasn't a poisonous spider. The negative: it was enough hair to convince me otherwise, if only for a second.

You'd think with all the shedding that I would have bald patches. No. My hair just looks really thin. With care, I slowly rebraided my hair. This seemed to be the safest mode for preservation. I don't think I cried. I don't remember.

The speed of the molting convinced me that I couldn't wait until Sunday to buzz it off. It has to be tomorrow. I cannot endure two more days. And, who knows, I might have a bald spot by then. For some reason, more of the pretty blonde strands have exited and the grays are holding on tenaciously. It figures. The grays started showing up back when I was in law school and up until now, I've done a pretty darn good job of camouflaging them. Wow, no secrets anymore.

I taught my 10:35am Frogs class and it was fantastic. Love the yogis!! The room was saturated in beautiful, strong, calming energy. Thank you for providing this solace for me. I almost lost my composure a few times because when I'd bend over to demo a pose, my braids would shift with me. I was terrified one was going to just fall off and plop onto someone's mat. You know, like how in those zombie movies a limb would just drop?

I've summoned the troops to accompany me to Patti's house for the buzzing and wig fitting. Angie and Joanna are making the journey down from LA and some of the local girls are coming as well. I'm going to have to consume some liquid courage, most likely in the form of mimosas, prior to doing the actual deed. I just pray that I can handle this part of it with dignity. Doubt it.

Patti promises to custom fit my wig so that I can walk out the door with hair. I trust her implicitly. She is such an angel and as she is a survivor, she understands. My wig will look great and I'll feel fine. My hat hair will also be cute and I can mimic my Pippi braids with a baseball cap for working out.

Monday, I'm meeting with Lois, my acupuncturist and her mother, who does hypnotherapy. The original purpose was to give me some tools for handling this depression that won't stop knocking on my door but, I'm going to ask if she can suggest to me that bald is beautiful while I'm under.

It can't hurt.