Bald IS Beautiful

It's an odd occurence when something so heavily impacts on your life in such ways that it's impossible to explain it to anyone effectively and then someone, something comes along, and all of a sudden - you're not alone anymore.


Robin Roberts of ABC News recently got diagnosed with breast cancer and made the decision to keep a video diary of her journey to air each morning on Good Morning America to share with America the devastating impact that having cancer has.


This morning, Robin Roberts aired a video addition to her diary: a video of her losing her hair, and also a video of her making the conscious decision of shaving it off before it all fell out.

http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=3869407&affil=wmar

"As hard as it was, I knew what I had to do."

I sobbed uncontrollably while watching the video this morning, and cried just now watching it again. So much of my fear of losing my hair and the empowering feeling that I was left with once I took the plunge and made the commitment to shave my head came rushing back while watching Robin sit there in the chair staring into the mirror at her reflection as the hair was slowly removed piece by piece.

"When I finally did it, I took the power back. Because now I was making the decision instead of letting the cancer make the decision."

I cannot imagine how draining cancer and chemotherapy must be, and how much of your energy and will is tested in a time like that. I am so blessed that my emotional journey ended at just hair loss, rather than the immense physical pain that accompanies surviving cancer.

Going along even more with bald being beautiful - there was a segment about alopecia areata on NBC's local newscast at 5 o' clock news earlier tonight in Baltimore. A woman locally is suffering and wanted to raise awareness.

I have decided for sure that next year I want to put together a fund raiser for alopecia areata awareness. I believe that there is enough advance in modern medicine that with effective funding a cure can be found. I'll keep everyone posted as I slowly begin the process of putting together my first ever public fundraiser.

Oops! :-)

-=EDIT=- to the weekend update post...

Goosey brought to my attention that I never addressed the fact of where my father was all those hours --

He was in another hospital room sleeping the entire time!!

His nurse who had released him at around 4 AM had suggested that it might be too early for him to call his wife for a ride home, so therefore she offered him an empty hospital bed to sleep in.

What she failed to remember to do though, was the write it down on his chart that she had promised to wake him up around 7 AM so that when her shift ENDED at 7 AM that the next nurse that took over would know that some dude was sleeping in the empty hospital room in the ER.

My Dad didn't realize that there was all this commotion going on around him until at around 8 AM, a nurse bringing another patient into the room woke him up. She quickly pulled the door closed again and behind the door, my father could overhear her saying to the other nurse, "I had no idea anyone was in there."

At that, my Dad decided to glance at the clock on the wall and realized that he had never been woken up and that he had overslept. So he grabbed his clothes and jacket, and headed for the bathroom out in the hall.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, three police officers approached him.

"You wouldn't happen to me [insert Dad's name here], would you Sir?" asked the police officer.

At this, my Dad said he turned white and kinda gulped when he replied "Yes".

"Well, you have a LOT of people looking for you," replied the police officer ushering him towards the patrol car outside.

"Defying Gravity"

Something has changed within me

Something is not the same

I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game.

Too late for second guessing

Too late to go back to sleep

It's time to trust my instincts

Close my eyes...

and leap!

It's time to try defying gravity -

I think I'll try defying gravity

and you can't pull me down.

I'm through accepting limits

'cause someone says they're so

Somethings I cannot change

But till I try I'll never know!

Too long I've been afraid of

losing love I guess I've lost

Well if that's love,

it comes at much too high a cost...

And so I'll try defying gravity

Kiss me goodbye

I'll be defying gravity

and you can't pull me down...

So if you care to find me

Look to the western sky

As someone told me lately

Everyone deserves to fly

And if I'm flying solo

At least I'm flying free

To those who ground me

Take a message back for me

Tell them how I'm defying gravity

I'm flying high, defying gravity

And soon I'll match them in renown

And no body in all of Oz

No wizard that there is or was

Is ever going to bring me down!

Bring me down!

-From the musical "Wicked"

**Why didn't I hear this song four years ago?

It's tragedy that brings back reality

It was Friday night and I had just finally gotten my phone back. Six voice mails, a couple of unseen texts...nice to know that even without my phone I am still loved.

I grabbed a taxi home again since my Dad wasn't going to be home until close to midnight. I got another fantastic taxi driver whom I've decided to wait until a later blog post to write about. (Because I have been keeping a journal of all the taxi drivers that I have met over the past few years of using their transportation services. And since my use of them is coming to an end shortly, I decided to blog about my experiences, each and every one of them, in order to make my Ode to the Taxi Driver: My Long Lost Salvation)

Once I got home, my roommate was already up and in the kitchen with one of her friends making a "penis cake", that is, a cake shaped like a penis. Along with chocolate "penis pops", that is, chocolate molded in the shapes of penises on sticks. You know, to suck. (Okay, okay, enough of the sexual innuendo.) She was preparing these little "fun treats" for the bachelorette party the next night for one of her friends who is to get married in the next couple of weeks.

Gen-gen gave me a holla on my phone and said that he and Alex were set for a night out on the town. One, because her parents were out of town and two, because Gen-gen got his parents to watch the dog for a weekend. So he could party, of course. It was not my intention to really PAR-TAY, but I would be stupid if I didn't admit that every single time Gen-gen and I go out, insanity ensues. Craziness.

Well, Gen-gen headed over to my place. I excused the mess, because just like Goosey, I am not particularly a slob or messy persay, it's just that I tend to lay things here and there throughout the week because I am too exhausted to put them away in their place. So I wait until Friday night to put everything away to let the week start out nice and clean. Except that when Gen-gen came over, I hadn't gotten a chance to motivate myself yet.

He fell onto my bed and then lay there as I walked around trying to get ready. He asked me how my week went - which led to another conversation, that led to a delightfully wonderful conversation and revelation (which will end up being the next post).

We head out to Mosaic with Alex and two of her friends. This Filipina girl whose name I didn't catch and her boyfriend, I (To keep anonymity). Let me talk about I for a second - this man had to be double the age of the Filipina girl (who looked like she couldn't be any older than 24 or 25). Not only was I older than the hills in age, but he was older than the hills in dress, mannerisms and...well, absolutely everything. There's a difference between a person's age and then a person acting and dressing, and being consumed by that number. I was one of these people, evidently.

He is Russian (of course, right? Gen-gen and Alex are.) and he has this very creepy look about him. The kind of perv, I would take girls into dark alleys that are half my age look. The "I am Soviet, hear me roar!" kind of look. Not only that, but he began dancing, if that's what you would want to call it. I don't even think all the dictionary knowledge in the word could help me describe to you how terribly horrible this man was at dancing. Think about the stiffest dance you could possibly think of - add in a little bit of attempt to roll your hips - except instead of rolling them in a sexy way, you're literally plummetting them into the side of your dance partner awkwardly. All the while your right arm is pressed in the air bent at the elbow while your right leg is up and you're trying to do some half-Funky chicken dance. Except that "The Chicken Dance" isn't playing: "This Is Why I'm Hot" by Mims is. Yes, it was that bad, people.

Okay, now that I've gotten that out of my system...


After the club, Alex and Gen-gen and I headed back to his place. I noticed a missed call around 11:30 from my mom. She never calls that late. She's never up that late. So I called my VM and listened to the message.

My Dad had come home from work at Nordstrom's with a horrible pain in his side, puking all over the place and just feeling incredibly lousy. He had decided to head to the ER at St. Joe's and my aunt had agreed to take him. They had found a kidney stone about 3 milimeters inside of his kidney. She wanted to let me know that we weren't going to be going to my nephew's birthday party the next day.

Since it was so late, Gen-gen let me crash in his guest room. I had passed out on his couch a few hours before and woke up around 4:30 AM, and walked up to the guest room and collapsed out on the bed.

Around 7:00 AM my phone goes off. I wake up and with sleepy eyes gloss over the screen of my cell while hanging out of the bed. I can barely make out the numbers but they look like my parents' house number. I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I attempted to force myself awake but sitting all the way up and rubbing my free hand against my eyes.

"Em, your father is missing," came the clear, yet shaking voice of my Mom.

"What the f$%k?" was the first thing that came out of my mouth. I was wide awake now. "What are you talking about, Mom?"

"Your father is gone, he's missing. I called over at the hospital just two minutes ago and the nurses station said he was discharged at 4:20 AM this morning. But he never came home," came my mother's voice from the other side of the line. It came over with an eerie calmness, the kind that let you know that she hadn't let the news sink in yet - but that she was overwhelmed enough to know she needed someone to talk to.

"Well, wait - he never called you or anything? He couldn't have left the hospital by himself," my mind was racing to try to find some logical explanation as I tried to stay calm for my mother's sake.

"No...he never called. He never said anything. In fact, I had talked to him right before I left you that voice message last night and he said he was going to have to stay overnight there to try to get the kidney stone out. That was the last I heard of him. I don't know what else to do," she said.

"Have you called C?" C is my oldest brother whose a cop in Harford County.

"No but I am going to, he'll know what to do about these things." My Mom is the kind of person who thinks that a person's occupation makes them the Einstein-know-it-all of anything and everything related to that occupation. Since my brother is a cop, my mother felt that there had to have been some special "way" of talking to police officers for missing persons, so she enlisted my brother's "expertise".

Two minutes later, I get another call.

"C is out calling the police, looking for your father," she said.

"That's great. They'll find him, I know they will Mom."

"...I think he might have committed suicide."

I didn't know what to say. I don't even know whether I was quite awake enough right before she said it - but I certainly fully awake after it was said. I had been so calm, so collected just several miliseconds before and now, in an instant, I felt the lump of fear clump itself into the back of my throat, forcing me to forget to breathe and let all the effort of breathing go into creating hot stingy tears that wasted no time occupying my eyes.

"I really think that's what he did," she said, "He's been just so happy recently. Even your sister has noticed."

I couldn't tell you what I thought of that comment because I was too caught on what she had said prior to that. Suicide? My Dad had been extremely happy recently - but I figured it was due to what he kept saying - that he had finally found a decent medication that helped to keep a constant and steady control on his once fluctuating moods. He didn't feel so up and so down anymore. He felt like he had a better control over his daily situations that would have normally caught him in a frenzy in the past. I had been so happy for him - why couldn't she be? Why did that have to be a "sign" that he would take his life?

And suddenly, like a flashback from a movie, I was taken back to middle school, and even just two years ago. Saw the vision of my father collapsing onto his knees in the bedroom, my mother standing over him with a menacing glare, his body so limp, so lifeless...and then the look on his face - so incredibly draining just to look at the expression on his face. I remember feeling my heart sink into the pit of my stomach to the point that I felt the thump as it hit the inner foremost wall of my stomach cavity. And yet even with my belly full, I felt so empty and helpless at the sight of my father so weak like that. Weak beyond anything anyone should ever feel at anytime. I could hear his voice just as I did two years ago, "I can't do this anymore...I can't do this anymore. I just don't want to live anymore..."

I choked back the tears and caught myself from sinking deeper into the past.

"No, Mom. He was fine, he is fine. He was so happy the last time I saw him. We'll find him. I am coming home now. Just relax. Do not scare the kids," I said, pulling the covers off and stepping into the chill of the guest room.

That man who was the man I saw two years ago was not the same man I saw a few days ago singing along to Carrie Underwood on the radio, I kept thinking.

Despite my best efforts, once I hung up the phone with my Mom I felt the tears start to flow and just let them flow. If there is anything that I have learned in the past few months it is to let the emotions I have out when I have them - holding them in is only going to prolong and worsen the pain later on.

I text J, a little freaked out still. J agreed with me - that my Dad would be found, that he wouldn't do something like that, and that my Mom was probably just overreacting as always. For Dad's sake, I hoped to God she was just being overdramatic like always.

I woke up Gen-gen and he took me over to my parents' house, all the way supporting me as I kept talking out loud to myself about my parents, about how much they have always been flitty in the past but no matter what, even if it was against my better judgement, I was always there for them. I have always been there when they needed me...even if it wasn't reciprocated.

We drove up to my parents' house and Gen-gen offered to come in with me but I told him that he didn't have to worry about it - and could just go home and get some rest for the both of us. As we were pulling into the neighborhood, we past a police car exiting as we were entering.

Once I got to the front door, my brother called me to tell me they had found him. He was already at the house down in the basement, and my Mom was sitting in the kitchen.

I suddenly let out a deep breath. It felt like I had been holding my breath that entire time and just at that moment had finally let it all out.

Standing in that kitchen, I stood there looking from my Mom, to my older brother, and then all around at my little brothers and my younger sister and realized then that sometimes it's tragedy that brings us back to reality.

As the police escort arrived to at the front door, I didn't hesitate in giving my Dad the biggest never-ending hug I had ever given him, never wanting to let go.

A Great Weekend!!!

(I have been behind in my blogging duties to myself so bear with me.)

Thursday Night (of last week): Made sure to leave work right at 5 pm to get over to FFCU on Bel Air Road. (Because that's the location that my coworker, Code Name: F. Sanchez used to work at and had given me a friendly connect by being able to drop her name there.) Once I got there, I nervously sat and waited for someone to call on me in the line. What about credit unions made me think of them as forbidden secret societies? As if the word "union" constituted that I must work at a place where I get a special secret coded name tattooed on my ass and a name badge that had access into government facilities. And then, one day, while conversing with Code Name: F. Sanchez about car loans, she informed me that I, little ole me, could hold an FFCU account. Is it because of my newly G.I. Jane haircut that made me a formidable opponent as a secret agent (if not for skill, just for the mere fact that it has made me look like one tough motha sucka)? Or could it be the fact that I know her, Code Name: F. Sanchez and she is part of their covert society based on former FFCU workers who meet and have lunch at some posh restaurant every Thursday?

Alas, no, it is because I am a student, she tells me. A God-damn student?! What's so effing special about that? It's THAT easy to be a member of FFCU? Well, Jesus, I thought, I should go in and apply for a car loan.

And that's just what I did. And I was told that I would have to wait for the response. (which I received and will talk about in another post in the near future, if I ever get my ass back on blog schedule.) What bugged me the most was that my mother showed up at the last minute. Now, understand, she had to show up sooner or later because she was my ride, but she sat there so quietly, not asking any questions, even though the whole point of her being there was for her to ASK QUESTIONS. My God! I guess she forgot to put that on her list of things to do.

Friday: God, I wanted this day to be over so badly. Not just because I was excited about going to see Carl Cox @ Buzz (which I was) but because my week had been ridiculously packed with endless projects, and never ending piles of financial yada and bullshit. The more and more I stay at the this job, the less respect I have for people who have money and flaunt it. I can't tell you how many times in the past week I have had customers keep me on the phone, complaining about how much money they have and how much they had to spend in cash for their $22.6 million home in Milan. Blah, blah, blah.

Friday night: I rushed home from work and immediately tried to clean up my room, get my laundry done and get into my costume for the party. I was going as a schoolgirl. I even bought the sexy pantyhose that only come up thigh-high. Oh yeah, baby. But then I realized at the last minute that I had gotten rid of my black boots and only had brown ones to wear. Well, that wouldn't work. But I didn't really have time to worry about that. J was to be over any minute (close to 8) and I wanted to have the place cleaned up from my work week (because I have a tendency to throw things everywhere during the work week because I come home too exhausted to do anything but sleep) so that he had a place to nap. By this time, as exhausted as I felt, I was too filled with excitement for the party - and I was up and raring to go.

He showed up close to 9. Collapsed on my bed, and the sucka was out like a light. And despite my award-winning cleaning skills, I had failed to get the text that he had sent just minutes before telling me that we probably weren't staying at my place this weekend. All that work for nothin'. Well, at least the room looked pristine to my satisfaction for the most part.

I had the TV running while he was sleeping and I decided to finish getting dressed. Now was the time to focus on the fact that I didn't have matching boots. So after trying different variations, I finally gave up and just threw on a pair of jeans, and a black laced tank top and a black hat and a matching sweatshirt and was done. I put my make-up on and then checked the time. It was close to 11.

I woke up Sleeping Beauty and we were off. And of course, like always, while I was sitting in the car driving there I started to get sleepy - meanwhile, J got wide awake. So by the time we got there, I was exhausted again and he was energized like the pink bunny.

God, was it fun!! I got to see D - who hadn't seen the G.I. Jane look yet. He pulled me aside and admitted to me that he was never worried from the start - due to my "great bone structure" I think is what he said. It was really loud - but then he pulled away and motioned towards my cheek bones, so I think that's what he meant. I love that my guy friends are the kinda dudes that pay attention to things such as "great bone structure". It really meant a lot to me. He kept telling me that it looked great. Probably because D knows I am the type of person that needs to be told a bazillion times.

J got to see his friend J-man. Although J-man's friend was gettin' a little frisky with me. It was flattering in the beginning - you know, the kind words, the look up and down. You ladies know what I'm talking about! Especially when you're not feeling like you have your A-game on (I mean, yes, I took the hat off for the whole night, so it was the first night out as G.I. Jane in a club) and some dude says you're hot. That's always nice to know. But not when they come from behind and get all freak-a-leek on the sides of your body and then crouch down low like they are in a constipated squat trying to press their face close to your booty. Oh, hell no. Not cool.

D caught it though. D saved me! He went to J-man and told J-man I was his sister, and I was kinda "involved with someone" and I didn't want to be touched like that. That was pimp, D, very pimp of you. Much appreciated, my friend.

There was some other creep later on with some massively large and seizure-infested lit glow sticks that was running around and then trying to hit on me and Esther-unni while we were sitting on one of the blocks. J saved us then. Yay J!!!

I was happy to run into Eugene and Kuya EARL!!! Even though Kuya Earl was f*cked up, he recognized me and rubbed my head "for good luck". Asked me how I was doing, and gave me a big big hug. He told me all about what was going on with his family as he always does. I felt like I was part of that family at one point - so he knows I still care. Until he gets to Corp. He suddenly said that Corp was in the market to buy a house in Towson. He started working for Sinai as some sort of respiratory something and had been asking about me. Kuya said he didn't know because he didn't know. J is convinced that Corp is trying to find me. I don't think so ... I think he gave up on me a long time ago - just like I gave up on him before that. Regardless, it was nice seeing Kuya - even though this is the upteenth time I have seen him out WITHOUT a girl!! Hmm... (I have my thoughts about that)

Ohhhh, before I finish Friday night's expo - I gotta point out one thing that really GROUND MY GEARS!! This dumbass piece of no-good white trash of a bouncer (I don't know your name, and you better be so glad I don't) that works at Buzz... for the past few times that I have gone there, he has always been the one who checks my ID. So when he checks it, and I get up there, he takes the ID and he stands there for a good two minutes - moving his eyes from the card, to me, to the card, back to me. Giving me this "I'm a bad ass motha f&cka" look with these piercing eyes and these pursed lips. The first time it happened, I got scared. Second time, annoyed. Third time, pissed off. This time? I looked this motha f&cka right in the eye. IN THE EYE. Try to tell me that's not me, stupid ass. So I shaved my head, bitch - go get some glasses. I didn't have any plastic surgery. It's the same person. Grrrrrr!!! Then he has the audacity to ask me "Do you have any cards on you with the same name?" WTF?! You want my passport? You want to check if I am a legal citizen while you're at it? Grrrrrr!!! I showed him my credit card and then he finally let me in. That bastard... I swear. One more time and I will probably be banned from the club forever for kicking the living shit out of him.

Saturday day/night: Right after Buzz, we all left together. Gen-Gen begged me and J to come to his place (because we didn't go the last time) so we headed over there with the code to his garage door. When we got there, Gen-Gen asked us to take Elvis (his puppy) out. In the rain. In the cold. At 3 or 4 in the morning. Yeaaaahhh...

We did, but Elvis only seemed to want to piss. So we went back inside and waited for Gen-Gen. Thirty minutes pass by - no Gen-Gen. This is where it gets hazy for me. I know we were there for what seems like a while. I remember laying on Gen-Gen's comfy white couch and collapsing... I remember seeing the dog jumping all over the place and J sitting in the chair adjacent to me. How long we were there, I have no clue. J said I started talking inaudibly again...hehehe. Oh well. We all have our moments.

Finally, I just remember J grabbing my hand and telling me we were getting out of there because Gen-Gen was never coming after all.

The rest of the night was AWESOME!! It was just great to hang out with J and be goofy, retarded people. Talk about everything and anything, sing karaoke until we have no voices left, listen to music and make commentary... (he still won't let me live up that damn discussion we had about Irony) it was just really relaxing.

Sunday: I woke up wishing it were Saturday and that weekend wasn't over. But it was Sunday, and we were too tired to do anything but lay in bed, eat something, and then go back to sleep. We did stop at Target really quick so we could pick out a gift for lil Drew. I told him to buy the Duplo (because what kid doesn't like Legos?) but J was thrown off by the fact that the set came with a Duplo cat and he insisted that we not make Drew "sissy"...so instead, we opted to get some some mini cars and trucks (which J dubbed as "manly"). I was so impressed with J's coordinating skills!! He got a blue bag and then got a card that said Happy 2nd Birthday with a dump truck on it! (I am sucker for wrapping gifts with a unified theme and I guess it rubbed off.)

J dropped me off at home, and he headed to the party. I saw the pics on LP's site - looked sooo cute!!! I collapsed in bed, and then woke up to work on Chemistry. And then found that my phone was seriously missing. J called me at work later on to let me know I had left it in his car.

W.W.S.O'.C.W.?

Since my entrance into the world of 15-minute showers and Chia-pet fuzz, life has been fantastic.

Despite my initial disappointment that the shaved head didn't increase my walking speed just by sheer removal of weight, (hey, you know, hair can be heavy. Weight transfer applies to cars - why can't it apply to humans?) I have had this sudden boost of self-confidence, and feel so incredibly lifted and at ease. At this point, I don't think it will make a huge difference with me whether my hair continues to grow or whether the growth stops here. I feel like I've gained my old-self back and it's such a f*cking amazing feeling.

When I look back at just a few months ago, sitting up at T & S's till the early morning, and being so terribly frightened of losing all my hair, and then I look at the me now, it's like a huge transformation. The thing I was scared of the most in the beginning ended up being the one thing that has placed me back on the high self-esteem map!

So I got this new look, and along with it this encouragement to wear make-up every day. (Where before when I left the house and was feeling lazy I would throw my hair into a ponytail and not worry about my face at all. Maybe if you were lucky you'd see me at around noon taking out my eyeliner and smudging a line in my cubicle mirror with an added finish of lip gloss.)

In addition to the added interest in make-up and experimenting with funky colors, I suddenly realized that my old wardrobe of T-shirts and jeans doesn't jive with this haircut at all.

At this revelation, I find myself asking the age old question:

W.hat W.ould S.inead O'. C.onnor W.ear?

This T-shirt and jeans thing just isn't cutting it. Or perhaps I am just coming up with the best damn excuse ever to reward myself with a shopping spree for new clothes for the new 'do.

I feel like my Chia-pet fuzz is whispering fashionista advice in my ear in the morning.

"No, no, don't wear that God awful two-year old blouse from the Gap...who wears that now? I refuse to look good with that shirt. How bout you try that nice brand new Benetton fuschia cashmere sweater you bought last week? You know I look fabulous in cashmere."

Damn, never knew my Chia-pet fuzz was going to have such great taste in fashion.

My Life as G.I. Jane

I shaved my head on Saturday morning/Friday night. It was one of the most exhilarating things I have done thus far in this past year, so exhilarating that even I was surprised at what an impact it has had on me.

I know that if I had waited to cut it any longer that I probably wouldn't have - or at least I would have put up a good fight. But the fact that it was 3:30 AM or so, and J and I had just gotten home from Fur, and the fact that I was feeling particularly "happy", he just caught me like a deer in headlights.

No sooner had I taken off my "club clothes" and hopped into my PJs was J romping into my room and grabbing his duffel bag.

"You want to cut your hair now?" he asked, holding the bag for his razor in one hand and standing there in my doorway, giving me the look that said he was asking, but knowing full well he was going to cut it anyway regardless of my answer.

"Now? Like, right now?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's best anyways. You can take a shower afterwards since you've been out all night, and then it'll be easier to clean up the hair."

An exasperated sigh ensued, "Okay, I guess you're right."

No sooner had I said okay, J was in the bathroom unzipping and making a lot of racket.

By the time I walked into the hallway and towards the bathroom door, he already had his hair trimmer plugged in and ready to go, all set up nice and neat like a mini barber shop.

He opened up the toilet seat and had me hang my head over the bowl, and I stared at the clear toilet water with suspense as I heard the constant buzz of the hair trimmer in his hand once he clicked it on.

And then it was done. I remember standing up and staring into the bathroom mirror, rubbing my hand over the top, and turning my head left and right to admire his handywork.

Since I have been "G.I. Jane-d" it is like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I have found this sense of freedom that I never thought imaginable. Weird, I know - that it would all come from just shaving a bit of hair off, but truly, honestly, it really has opened up this whole new source of positive energy for me.

I guess I never realized (until I shaved it off) how much the remnants of my "old" hair was really weighing me down. It was forcing me to be critical of myself, and forcing me to be judgmental because every time I looked in the mirror, those pieces were a constant reminder of what I used to have.

Plus, the long hair in those random areas matched with the patches of Chia-pet fuzz (that's what I call the little baby hairs that are slowly growing in my bald spots) everywhere was just daunting to look at.

And what's awesome about this haircut? 15-minute showers. 10 minutes to get dressed. I love it. No fuss with the hair, no curling irons, no blow dryers. Me, my fuzzball of a head and a nice outfit. Boom. Done.