Today I got my hair cut. As in a wash, cut and blow dry hair cut. In a proper salon that offers a selection of drinks and a head massage. With a proper hairdresser sporting a man bun, cool tattoos, a lovely beard and glasses. A hairdresser that says things like, "It's not what you take off but what you leave on that's the most important ...." I think he was talking about short hair! All the usual stuff that you would expect for your hard earned cash.
Except I've waited months for this. Months and months of having to look into the mirror and hating what I see. Wearing a wig and worrying about it pinging, blowing, falling or sliding off. Of stroking my bald skinhead and loving the feel of it but hating what it represents.
Now? I've got a haircut and I'm beginning to feel 'normal' again. As you can see from the photos below, it's not the best haircut in the world nor is it the most different but it's MY haircut. I know I'm smiling in the photos but I did have a big cry earlier as this meant so much to me.
My hair is something that this hideous disease can't take away from me. It's growing back. It's coming back. Just like I am.
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| Washed and ready for my hair cut in the salon |
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| Huuuge forehead shot! Ignore the zit |
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| Crop shot |
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| Yet another crop shot |
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| Vanessa through the looking glass |
All photos belong to shewithacapitalV
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