This time last year, I had a half-shaved hairstyle with blue locks that stopped just below my shoulders. Even if waking up in the morning with bedhead was a guarantee, and dyeing it every couple of weeks was a hassle, I had a lot of confidence associated with my long hair.
Then came a summer’s worth of chemotherapy. Goodbye blue hair, hello Mr. Clean.
I’m now five months post-treatment and have traded my peach fuzz for a simple short ‘do. According to everybody except me, my hair is growing rapidly. As glad as I am to have at least some hair again, there are times when all I want is to be able to put it in a cute ponytail and tuck loose strands behind my ears. Sometimes I wonder how much longer I’ll have to wait until I feel just as pretty as I once did.
However, the other day, an interesting thing happened. I was wearing my favourite vest and a pair of Dr. Martens boots, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My first thought? “Man, I look kind of cool right now.” Maybe I can learn to love my short hair after all.
