Hair, The Musical, in Theaters and Constantly Playing in my Mind Everywhere!
Long as God can grow it
My hair!
Gimme head with hair
Long, beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming
Streaming, flaxen, waxen…….
Hair. No, I haven’t completely lost my mind. And yes, it is from Hair: The Musical. Although there was a time during my cancer treatment when I got the tiniest bit obsessed with hair. Maybe more than a tiny bit, maybe super crazy obsessed with hair. Seriously, I was losing it over my hair, or lack of hair, rather. I got this song stuck in my head, and suddenly the world became one, big Musical. People in the streets, singing and dancing, waving their luxurious, shiny, bouncy hair all around me, circling me with pirouettes of pony tails. Throwing their shiny bobs, psychedelic shags, spiky, curly, wavy, frizzy hair of all colors and styles in my face. Singing that song:
Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy, daddy
Hair. It suddenly hit me, over eight months into treatment, that everyone in the world had beautiful, long, shiny hair except me! My one-quarter inch, newly sprouted, mousy brown hair just didn’t cut it. And I did not like it, not by the non-existent hair on my chinny, chin, chin. I was done with chemo and wanted my hair back, now! I had enough of being bald. I especially had enough of those damn hair commercials on the television, in magazines, billboards, and books. I felt bombarded by the excessive images of women with those unattainable, glossy locks. My steely resolve of, “bald is beautiful,” was put to the test with those hair commercials, you know the ones; the young girls, romping in a field of fresh cut grass and wild flowers, their boyfriend tying their thick, beautiful locks into knots. I just couldn’t take it any longer. I wanted to strangle them with those silky tresses!
Let it fly in the breeze
And get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
At home for fleas
A hive for bees
A nest for birds
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my……..
Hair. I tried to be brave, strong, and logical. I was determined. Determined to hold on to every strand of hair as long as I could. I had my boys cut it short when it first started to thin out, then I went spiky, after that a bad comb-over. I tried taping some bangs to a hat, then, when I thought it couldn’t look any worse, post apocalyptic mange set in. Only then did I shave it. I know, I know, I was supposed to be brave and strong, and shave it off before it fell out. I should have been all, “I’ll show you cancer, I just shaved off all my hair so you couldn’t get to it first. In your face cancer!” But screw it, I liked my hair and wanted to hold on to it as long as I could! How brave is it shave your head when you look perfectly healthy? Demi Moore looked just fine; sexy, fierce. Try watching it fall out over the span of a couple of harsh chemo treatments, a little at first, then in clumps, until I looked like Ed Asner. Now that is brave! (No offense to Mr. Asner, he’’s adorable, but not the look I was going for.)
I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy
Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty
Oily, greasy, fleecy
Shining, gleaming, streaming
Flaxen, waxen
Knotted, polka dotted
Twisted, beaded, braided
Powdered, flowered, and confettied
Bangled, tangled, spangled, and spaghettied
Hair. Everywhere. I had lost my hair, but not my attitude, and managed my hair loss with a little wink of humor. I wore wigs in every color, every length, curly and straight, thick and thin. I got to try every hair style and color I always dreamed of, but couldn’t or wouldn’t dare try before. I was a sophisticated red head by day, platinum blond bombshell by night. I had short bobs in every color; black, green, blue, and pink. My sons liked the blue best, I liked the pink. The green might have been a mistake, I looked like an over sized Oompah Loompah, but it was nice on St. Patrick’s Day. People didn’t realize they were wigs, that I was sick. I was called “edgy” and “punk.” Cool, huh. I was the most popular mom in my sons’ preschool class, the kids loved too see what color hair I would have from day to day. Not everyone could have pulled off those looks. So, take that cancer! I was brave and strong after all. Now my hair has grown back, slowly, but it’s all mine, and it’s great! I still hate those hair commercials, which I firmly believe is a sound, natural, normal feeling. No one really has hair that perfect, ugh.
Now, if I could only get those people to stop singing and dancing in my head………..
Oh say can you see
My eyes if you can
Then my hairs too short
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, Show it
Long as God can grow it
My Hair.
