Snip-Snip

This is it. Friday's the day -- my hair is coming off. Well, not all of it but certainly a great deal of it. A while ago, in support of my mom, I made a pact to cut my hair as she lost hers from chemotherapy. OK, OK, it took a while for me to get my act together -- and admittedly I got cold feet too -- but I'm committed. Part of my problem was finding just the right person for the job, since I've had some hair debacles in years' past (well, maybe not debacles, but certainly not what I had wanted) and I've played it safe for many, many years. Friday I'm taking the plunge. I found a photograph that looked promising, so with that in hand -- and my sister-in-law by my side -- we're heading out to the home of her friend who cuts hair, followed by a celebratory (I hope) lunch.

I'm very nervous. Your hair is what -- partly -- defines you (which is why losing it to chemotherapy can be utterly tragic for women). But that's the point here -- I'm doing it for my mom, who lost her hair again, and perhaps I'll even have enough to donate to Locks of Love for the third time in my life. That would be cool. But still ... I'm nervous. I will always remember what a friend told me -- never get your hair cut when you're going through a major change in your life. Well, I've certainly been through enough changes lately, and while hanging on to my hair has been somewhat of a Linus-blanket thing for me, maybe this is a good thing, part of a transformation inside and out.

Yikes. A few more days. Better start snapping some "before" photos ...