Nothing compares to…

Since I was seventeen, I've wondered if I could pull off the Sinead O'Connor look. After my second IV chemo treatment, I woke up one morning and discovered about a dozen hairs on my cream colored pillowcase. I ran my right hand through my hair. More. I probably did it another five times with the same results.

The hair didn't fall out in clumps, instead it steadily thinned over the next month. During my shower I cleared the drain basket of hair 3 times to stop the water from backing up. I removed wads of hair from the vacuum rollers. Obsessively brushed hairs off my sweatshirts, t-shirts.

"It's not that bad, Kris," my family and friends replied when I asked if they could tell. When I started to see the horizon of my bald head through my hairline, I decided it was time.

I called to make the appointment and at first was told my hairdresser, Sam, was booked solid. "Would you mind telling her it's for Kristin? It's the cancer haircut. Shouldn't take long."

Twenty seconds later the receptionist was back on the line. "Sam will see you Friday at 11."

I had 2 days to think/obsess about it. The night before I cried. Ugly cried for like 3 minutes. The next morning, I kept tearing up as I got ready to go. "You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. It's just hair. It'll grow back." My eyes, puffy and red.

Here's the thing. It's NOT just hair. I wasn't going to be able to pass as just Kristin anymore. Now I’d have an un-hide-able sign that I wasn’t well. That I had cancer.

I sat in my car for a few extra minutes outside the salon. Took a deep breath, got out of the car, and swiped away the tears with my hoodie sleeve as I walked in. "I'm here for Sam. Kristin. 11."

"Yep. I'll let her know you're here."

"Great." I paused, wondering how long I was going to be able to hold it together. "Um, can I pre-pay for today?"

"There's no charge for today."

Sam. I love her. Just then she appeared and gave me a great big hug. "You ready to do this?" she asked in my ear.

"Yep." I swallowed hard.

"All right," she said as she led me to her chair and gestured for me to take a seat. "Let's name badass women who shaved their heads."

I avoided eye contact with myself in the mirror and exhaled, "Charlize Theron. Mad Max."

"Nice." Sam countered, "Helen Slater. The Legend of Billie Jean."

"Good call. Sinead O'Connor."

I'm not wondering anymore.

Me, pre cancer haircut

Me, post cancer haircut