I had a revelation about my post cancer self the other day. I had lunch with a friend who I hadn't seen in quite a while. I was expecting her to comment on my curly, unruly hair but then I remembered that she is much to polite for that. Instead, what I did notice, was that she kept staring at the belt that I had on. It is not that the belt is a really great belt, so I knew that there was something else that was on her mind but I let it slip out of my mind until I got home. When I did look in the mirror when I returned home, I let out a chuckle. Oh, my! My belt didn't match at all. How could I have missed this?
Well, the truth is that I miss a lot of things like this lately. I am not sure why, but I tend to be a little too forgiving with myself regarding my appearance. Next thing you know, I will be wearing checks and stripes. It is probably related to hair loss and regrowth. My hair fell out a little over a year ago and started to grow back around May or June. I haven't had a haircut since it has grown back and I vowed when I was bald that I would never cut my hair again (although this is quite impractical in reality, I was under the influence of chemotherapy).
Now I look at the rolls of auburn locks and the sprouts of gray and wonder if I should give in and cut it. Should I color it too? Should I wear a matching belt? It all means reentry. Reentry into the world where those things really matter. I kind of like being out here on the fringe where I can dip a toe in when I want to or pull away if it gets to be too much. That is what cancer has done to me. Given me a little too much detachment from the mundane. I am not sure that it is all good when I can't even dress right. It also lets my rebellious side have a little too much free reign.
So I will ponder it. To cut or not to cut. To color or not to color. And finally, to match or to not match.