Slightly sad song, but when it’s been 20 years since I’ve had bangs, and 25 years since clippers visited my head, being in a pixie cut has brought on a little case of the blues.
I may have, in fact, bawled my eyes out when I got home after cutting off all of my hair.
Holy shit, I did it!
This cancer thing has changed my life. What I can’t decide is HOW it has changed my life. I have a hard time focusing on the things that I want to, or need to when it just doesn’t seem IMPORTANT.
I don’t want to be one of those people who are all about this thing that has happened to them, which is part of the logic behind cutting my hair this weekend. Cancer didn’t happen to my hair. I happened to my hair. Although as the sidekick mentioned, if this pixie haircut doesn’t fall out, I’m going to be PISSED that I cut off all of my hair for no good reason. I don’t care who thinks it’s cute. Between that and the boobs, it’s hard for me to feel like a girl.
So I’ve been buying things like pink stretchy bras, but I think what I really need to go find is some new lipstick. Perhaps that I’ll go find that soon.
And so it goes, and so it goes. And you’re the only one who knows.
The Breast Cancer Ninja 
hugs ange…hugs and love to you.
Love you girl. Sending hugs. And for the record, I do think it is cute and you still look like a girl – but more importantly “girl-ness” is on the inside – not just the outside… Even more for the record, you are amazingly strong and part of that strength is being able to cry and experience your feelings…