It Isn't Messy, It's Celebrating

“My hair isn’t messy; it’s celebrating”… that’s what I said to my aunt who was visiting this past weekend. She hadn’t seen me since my hair grew back and before she commented on the gray or that it was windblown or suggest I “style” it, I beat her to it.  Instead, she loved the “celebrating” comment and only wanted to see how long it had gotten and how soft it felt.

Since my hair began to grow back, only one person has told me that my “messy hair” didn’t make a good impression and that maybe I should do something with it if I wanted to meet a guy, I still get a lot of, “Have you thought of cutting it?” Or “You should style it.” Or “Why don’t you use a flat iron?” these suggestions may not be negative but they all still say, “You would look better if…” which also means, “In my opinion you don’t look your best.”

I’m not bitching here. I’m bringing this up because I DO feel I look my best. I think looking my best happens when I’m feeling my best. I meant what I said to my aunt, my hair is celebrating. And, I’m encouraging it.

When my hair fell out I was only 26 years old. All of it fell out in a matter of weeks. I didn’t know why it was falling out either. Was it a serious health problem, a side effect of some medication, was it stress? I suffered through a few painful experimental treatments and several tests and procedures before those questions were answered. Then I had to deal with the fact that it might never grow back anyway.

After a woman spends thirteen years of her life having to wear wigs and dealing with all that that entails, trust me, she can deal with comments about messy or un-styled hair.

Here’s the truth… I don’t cut my hair because I‘m not sure how long it’ll stay with me. I don’t dye the gray because gray doesn’t bother me. I’m 42 years old and if some gray is the only tip off to my actual age, then I can’t complain. I don’t “style” my hair because it won’t hold a “style” since it still falls out a great deal. I don’t mind when it’s windblown because it means I didn’t have to worry about my wig blowing off instead.

When I look in the mirror I don’t see an un-styled do, gray hairs or messy waves. I see my face; my eyes, my nose, my smile. I see my body working correctly. I see less tension in my neck and shoulders since I’m no longer paranoid about keeping my wig on straight. I see that I’m free to go out whatever the weather. I can go swimming in the summer. Have a snowball fight in the winter. Go on roller coasters and into haunted houses. And, let a guy romantically run his hand through my hair. 

Outside of losing a loved one, losing my hair was the most difficult thing I've ever had to endure. I learned the hard way who was there for me and who wasn’t. I learned what I wore and who I impressed took a backseat to who I was and who I let into my life and that how I felt about myself was more important than how others felt about me. Instead of losing my sense of self I found MYSELF. Instead of fear and weakness I found inner strength.

Think about it, men who often have no problem picking their noses, scratching their crotches or passing gas in front of others can't handle losing their hair. The things some of them do in order to cover up their hair loss and I’m going to worry about my hair being messy? That’s why I’ve made a deal with my hair… the day I begin to contemplate a comb-over is the day I will stop taking my own advice. But, until then, my hair is free to celebrate as she wishes.