Wednesday, May 12, 2010

I Am Not My Hair

I had to pull out my driver's license today and started to look at the picture of myself taken a year and four months ago. My hair was extremely short, brown and curly. Two months before that, I had finally taken off that wig.

Dr. Pronovost was right. When you consider the amount of time you have to endure bald in the name of a cancer cure, it's nothing more than a quick snapshot of time in your life. It was two years ago this week that my hair was flying off my head at the mere blow of the wind. That's when I realized I had no choice but to buzz it off.

Finally, I have some sense of a hair style, and thanks to Barry at Guy Salon in Stamford, my platinum highlights look just right. Gone is the pale palor of my skin. I'm strong again, moving furniture, cleaning and doing what has to be done without falling on the couch from exhaustion.

I kept looking to this day, and it has finally arrived. It's spring, my favorite time of year--I'm healthy and doing just fine. Joe is sober. What more can I ask for?

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