My hair

My gorgeous friend Lani is shaving her head to raise money for cancer research with Shave for a Cure.

When I first heard I wanted to yell - "No! are you insane? It's your hair! You can't shave off your hair!"
I didn't, of course. Instead I said "Wow, you're so brave." and sponsored her.

But inside I thought I could never ever do that. I often feel like Jo March in Little Women in that my hair is my "one true beauty". As a child I loved my long hair because it was different (and a great colour with all the sun bleaching in Vanuatu), through my awkward teenage years I relished my long hair and would use it as a veil to hide from the crazy world, and even now when I have times I hate everything about my body, I still like my hair.

I mess around with my fringe (to have or not to have? blunt or side?), and cut layers then grown them out, and dye auburn streaks to try to recapture the colour I had as a child. But I always have reasonably long hair.

My hair is part of me. So much of my identity, what I think about how I look, is wrapped up in having long hair.

When I see Lani later this week without hair, I know she will look beautiful - as always. And I will probably still feel guilty about not wanting to ever do it myself. But if we all shaved our head, who would  be left to sponsor them, right?






Joining up with Just Write