My hair started falling out this week. First it was a little bit. Then it was a lot.
I didn't think it would be a big deal. I'm not particularly vain.
But when it started coming out in handfuls, it was a bit disturbing.
It became apparent to me how much of my identity I get from my hair.
Wednesday night it was time, It needed to be cut.
My dear friend brought me dinner and I asked her to stay and help me cut my hair. It was very emotional for me. But her presence brought me comfort.
I went to a wig store to try on wigs, wig after wig, style after style. They were all very cute.
But with each one I'd look at myself and say, "No, that's just not me."
Glamourous. Professional. Spunky. Sophisticated...which one was me?
Then I looked at myself without the wig and thought "cancer patient."
The worst look of all. The one I don't want.
Will that look elicit horror, pity, fear? What expression will I see on the faces of those who see me?
And as hard as it is to look in the mirror and see cancer patient, I know that is not who I am.
My hair does not define who I am.
This image that I present to the world is only an image, it's not the real thing.
My identity comes from God. I was created in his image.
My beauty comes from within. From a gentle and quiet spirit, one that God has been gently, and sometimes painfully, working in me for years.
Once my hair falls out completely, I'll be wearing one of those beautiful wigs.
And it will be fun, to have a new look. Which one will I choose?
And maybe at times, I'll go without. Perhaps I'll learn to be content. Hopefully people will see past the cancer patient look, and see the person inside.