haircut; stage 1

The hair thing is a group project. Ting cut my hair this afternoon -- stage 1 of probably 3 stages, not counting the stage where there is nothing left to cut. She gave me a nice little bob. Next will be a pretty short cut, probably right before chemo starts. Then, before it all starts to drop (scheduled, as you know, for noon on January 21st), a buzz-cut. That will be hard, I think. Not just the look of it, but the feeling of the clippers on my neck. It makes your spine crawl. I hated that feeling when I was a kid -- my sister and I had pixie cuts from the time we were about 5 to age 10, something our folks instituted when my mom went into the hospital for something or other and our braids were one too many for our dad. Pixie cuts are short, really short; the barber would finish off the haircut by running the clippers up the edge of the neck and hairline. If you've felt that, you know what I mean -- your spine curves involuntarily in response to the vibration. It must be what cats feel when we rub them the wrong way.

While Ting was working on my head, Laura's mom mentioned that a friend of hers lost her straight brown hair during chemo and it came back curly and white. I expressed my hope that my hair will remain curly, and ruminated silently to myself about the possibility of my hair coming in white. What would I do with straight hair? What if it's white? Ack. Ting helped me set all that aside by asking, imp that she is, "Hey, Mom, what if you finish chemo and you come out straight and white?"

Here's the bob. Don't feel bad about staring at my chest. Now's as good time as any.