3 Little Hairs

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Where is the sun? My toes are painted patriotic blue, my bikini is orange, my giant pink hat that adequately covers my big bald head was securely in place. Slathered on sunscreen. New InStyle magazine. Lovely sarong, that I forgot how to tie....I need another lesson.

And, no sun. And, not only is there no sun, it is cold and breezy! Absolutely unacceptable.

So, here I sit, hunched over the computer at the peak of what should be a sunny 4th of July. Harrumph. We're going to take out the beach cruisers later but, I'm not sure if that is a good idea as my hat and hat-hair might blow off in the bitter, cold wind. The last time my hat was pulled off wasn't pretty and I'd prefer to avoid that trauma. Maybe I can tie it on with something?

I am feeling better! Thank goodness! Day 10 after the final chemotherapy treatment and I'm excited to usher in a new era. All of the yucky side-effects are starting to fade, one by one.

Emotionally, I feel rather disconnected from most of my friends and the studios where I teach. I just haven't been there fully for so long. I am eager to rebuild a sense of regularity where I teach when I'm scheduled, when I can talk to my friends and make plans that aren't centered around treatment, where things feel more reciprocal. There is a melancholy sense that I've been on ice for six months as everyone else has moved forward. I hope to find synchronicity soon.

On a positive note, some new hairs are sprouting on my head. Not the little 1/2 inch stubble but, actual hairs!! There are 3 in particular that have caught Todd and I's attention. These 3, count them, 3 hairs are about 2 inches long and appear to have just sprung up. So, if all of them start popping in at 2 inches, I'll be in a chic pixie in no time.

I swore I'd never have a pixie again but, I guess that is a lesson in there is no Never or Always. The term "pixie haircut" brings up a deep wound between my mother and I from when I was eight years old. I don't think I've ever forgiven her for it. She lured me to the hairdresser for a "trim" and I exited that salon with a pixie. Mind you, I was a skinny little kid and the only feature identifying me as female was my hair. With it shorn off of me, I looked like a little boy. Much to my chagrin.

To be fair, my mom was probably sick and tired of trying to get a brush through the rat's nest that was my long, waist-length hair. We were living in Nairobi at the time and I must admit that I was quite a tomboy. I was always playing outside and if I recall correctly, I wasn't a huge fan of the bath tub or taking my hair out of pigtails. Traumatized, I vowed never to have short hair again. Again, with those "nevers." I succeeded except for a misguided haircut and perm combo in high school but, that is another story.

So, come on 3 little hairs! Grow, multiply, becoming abundant! I'm letting go of absolutes like Never and Always....and not just with the hair. I'm ready to reclaim my life, starting with the renaissance of the pixie.