I wrote that when I blogged the first time about donating my ponytail to Pantene's Beautiful Lengths program.
It's no less scary the second time around.
Even though I've been planning the big cut for a while, I still had a lump in my throat when I handed the stylist the ribbon I cut to mark 11". When I felt the scissors, then saw the loose ponytail in her hand, I even fantasized for a moment that it would grow back really quick, like that Play-Doh set they had back in the 80s.
What is it about hair? I'm sure we could ask Samson. Or Crystal Gayle. Or heck, even Cher. (Can we ask Cher? Please? That would be awesome.)
So what is it about hair that makes us feel feminine? (Guess we can't ask Samson about that.) And by , I guess I just mean because I'd hate to paint a broad brushstroke of stereotype and say all women feel a feminine power rooted (ha) in their hair.
They appeal of long hair is manifold. I loved my mermaid hair.
I loved those wavy, piece-y tendrils that looked awesome (sometimes) after being in a bun. I loved putting my hair in a bun, knowing that sweet spot high on the head that was perfect for napping or sleeping and especially for making the second-day-hair ponytail look fab. I loved scooping my hair off my face when sewing or the second I walked out of my house and faced 10000% humidity.
I wore a ponytail holder on my ring finger, y'all, so I'd always have it and so it wouldn't get in the way using a mouse at work, or when writing, painting, or anything. I had this cool way of wrapping it around my finger so it looked like a little gem and not just a piece of fruity-colored rubber and nylon.
And now I have a little stubby ponytail. And if I wanted to bun up, I'd need enough bobby pins to rival the construction of the Eiffel Tower.
But that's ok. It will grow back. And maybe in another 8 months or so I'll think about going through all of this again.
Why? Why when I'll be bloopy for a while and feel like a lump of blaaah instead of a sex goddess with a sweet crowning glory? (OK, so maybe that's pushing it a bit.)
Why? Because cancer steals. Cancer steals lives and it can steal the self confidence of women and girls undergoing treatment. And if two heartbeats of my mild discomfort can in some small part make a woman or girl feel like smiling again, I'll do this until my hair turns grey and they won't let me do it anymore.
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