Yep. It finally happened.
The moment I decided to shave my head was extremely hard. Hair is everything to a woman. It's her identity, her femininity. My father shaved it, and I cried the whole time. After he was done, I didn't want to look at myself. I didn't want to face reality.
I finally looked. Although it wasn't as bad as I thought, I long for the time I will get to grow my hair back nearly every day. Although there are options like wigs and hats, it's just not the same.
As I walked into the hospital for my second round of chemo, I felt empowered with my bald cap. I wore my illness on my sleeve, and the looks I got weren't of disgust, they were of admiration--an acknowledgement of bravery. A shared, obvious knowledge that I am a fighter.