So it Begins

Yesterday made it real.

Not because I felt sick.

Because I finally stopped pretending. 

Reality Just Got a Zip Code

Yesterday I had a port placed in my chest for the chemotherapy I'll be starting in the next couple of weeks.

It's about the size of a silver dollar.

Tiny.

Unassuming.

But somehow it managed to weigh about a thousand pounds.

Because for the first time since hearing the words, "You have breast cancer," I couldn't pretend anymore.

This wasn't another appointment.

This wasn't another scan.

This wasn't another biopsy.

This was the beginning.

And suddenly it hit me...

Oh...this is really happening.

The funny part?

I still feel fine.

I don't look sick.

I don't act sick.

Most days I forget I even have cancer.

Until I catch myself planning my calendar around chemotherapy instead of golf tournaments.

Or yesterday...

When I realized there's a very good chance I'm about to have the shortest haircut of my life.

It's More Than Just Hair

If I'm honest, losing my hair has been one of the hardest parts for me to wrap my head around.

Now before you say, "It's just hair..."

I know.

But let's be honest...

Women have a relationship with their hair.

Mine has been a lifelong project.

The cut.

The color.

The products.

The cute pins.

The hairdryer. 

The curling iron.

The flat iron.

The expensive shampoo that promised miracles.

(They lied.)

I've always liked having great hair.

Maybe that's a little vanity.

Maybe it's just being a woman.

Either way...

At 3:00 this morning, instead of sleeping like a normal person, I found myself making a list.

The Hall of Hair Shame

If I'm wearing a wig...

Here are a few styles you probably won't see me sporting:

• Mrs. Brady
• Cher
• Dolly Parton
• Marge Simpson
• Cindy Lauper
• The lead singer from "Whitesnake"
• Dreadlocks
• Anything popular in the '90s. (Clacladoo...I'm looking at you.)
• Blonde.
• Jet black.
• Blue.
• Green.
• Pink.

Although...

Check back with me after my third chemo treatment.

Mrs. Brady and I may become much better acquainted.

The "Maybe..." List

Now these...

These have potential.

• A chic bob.
• A stylish short cut.
• Joan Jett (minus the rock tour).
• Mariska Hargitay's short hairstyle.
• Millie Bobby Brown.
• Auburn.
• Brown.
• Maybe a little red.

Who knows?

Maybe this is my opportunity to become the woman I've always been too afraid to try.

The Mirror Doesn't Get the Final Say

The truth is...

This journey isn't going to be defined by what grows—or doesn't grow—out of my head.

It's going to be defined by what grows inside my heart.

Acceptance.

Love.

Gratitude.

Grace.

Courage.

Taking care of my body.

Taking care of my mind.

And remembering that my worth has never depended on my hairstyle...

Even if I occasionally thought it did.

Maybe losing my hair isn't about losing part of myself.

Maybe it's about discovering the parts of me that never needed hair in the first place.

Today's Blessing Cake

What was mine?

Realizing while I may lose my hair...

I'm not losing myself.

What did I learn?

Sometimes the hardest part isn't what cancer takes.

It's letting go of the illusion we were ever in control to begin with.

And maybe...

Just maybe...

Confidence looks pretty good with or without hair.

What's yours?

Okay, friends...

I need your help.

If I do go bald...

What's your vote?

Short and sassy?

A fun wig?

Scarves? Please don't vote for this option.

Hats?

Or should I just fully embrace my inner badass?

Leave your suggestions in the comments.

I have a feeling we're going to have some fun with this.

Until Next Time...

Hair today...

Maybe gone tomorrow.

But humor?

That one's sticking around.

Keep looking for your Blessing Cake.

I know I will.

In the Spirit of Health & Wellness

— Elizabeth