How many times have you been told you’re going to lose your hair?  It’s coming out.  Nothing is going to stop it and a very official person in a white coat has told you this and even gave you a time frame?  I have been told this twice. 

First time was June 2009 when I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer and I was beginning chemo.  It was going to fall out within two weeks and it will happen fast – within 24 hours.  At that time, I shaved my head during a thunderstorm at 4:00  in the morning. 

This time out of shear rebellion I cut it myself.  I’ve always wanted to try cutting my own hair.  Just to see if I could do it.  How hard could it possibly be?  I stood with a black cape around my neck, hair dripping down my sides and my hands working like Edward Scisscorhands. 

I was going mod.  Something edgy.  Fresh.  Off-centered (not Flock of Seagulls), but maybe something someone would want to emulate.  A look only a woman about to lose her hair would dare sport.  This is what I ended up with:

That’s right.  A dutch boy haircut.  Nothing edgy.  No off-set bangs.  Nothing crazy and fun and wild.  A plain dutch boy haircut.   Even my own daughter looks disgusted by it. 

I don’t have the chops (pun intended) to cut my own hair.  If you need an edgy, mod, fresh hair cut, do not call me.  I am not your girl.  But I tried it.  Attempted it.  Failed it.  And it doesn’t matter because it’s going to fall out soon anyway.

Now when I hear Brooklyn pray at night “Dear God, please don’t let mama’s beautiful hair fall out because it’s so pretty”.  I can’t help but wonder if God is cracking up and figuring out a way to let Brooklyn know He’s doing me a favor by letting it go.