The way I’m acting, you would think my entire identity is hair.
It doesn’t help that I’m currently trying to find my identity, but no, my hair isn’t my whole personality.
It’s my signifier. My security blanket, my uniqueness.
Previously, the most common adjective for my hair was mermaid and the emotion it was most met with was envy.
I think about how I would roll out of bed, roll a comb through my thick hair, and pretty much head out the door without much fuss. Back then, I piiiiiiined to be effortless. In hindsight, I think there was a stint in my 30’s where I was verging on effortless and totally missed it.
In my new heightened vain-era, I simply can’t get over my hair loss. I didn’t shed a tear losing my breast, but when my hair began falling out in chunks during chemotherapy (and this was with cold caping), I wailed. I cried for days that turned into weeks. One time, when the knots were particularly bad and my scalp was burning, I screamed at the top of my lungs in the shower out of frustration. For months, I swept my hair tumbleweeds off the white kitchen tile and realized this was on own personal hell. Taunting me with its presence and physical labor.
[Side Note: when I finally own a home, I WILL NOT have white kitchen tiles.]
Now, seven months post-chemo and my hair is regaining its health and slowly growing back. The sobbing has stopped, but I generally feel ugly. It could be a good day or I’m feeling cute in an outfit, but the moment my eyes fall upon my brittle, unruly hair, I’m reminded of everything I am no longer. Being beauty inept doesn’t help as I cobble my hair into an updo every day, hoping it makes my ailments more anonymous, and I’m lucky for that. But in my head, I’m having a super-bratty hissy-fit about how I would never cut my hair short.
And that’s the truth. But, I know what you’re all collectively thinking and yes, I’m trying to see the bright side.
Though a majority of my hair fell out with cold capping, I was able to maintain full hair coverage and there for, illness anonymity. Thanks to good genes (at least in the keratin department), I have thick hair and good follicle density to better hide my struggles and provide options while growing it out. It also kept my sweet nephew in the dark about my journey, just how I and Midwestern suppression would like it.
It’s to the point where I need to get a haircut. It’s healthier, growing out and desperately needs a style. But most of all, I need to shed my old self. Hair holds trauma and I’m clinging to scraps of hair on my crown as an act of hiding and delusion. It’s just a delay of the inevitable.
I’m working to change the narrative in my head to one of excitement and experimentation. My opportunity to try different hair styles as it grows out, and who knows, I may even find a new style I love! With Ally 2.0, it doesn’t see advantageous to immediately go back to mermaid hair.
I don’t think I’ll become a short hair gal, but I’m excited to find a happy medium. Pun intended.
I’ll keep you updated…
Leave me a comment about what short hair styles I should try!
Note: Written mid-July 2026
💕💕 lovely always
You are and will always be a mythical creature no matter how you wear that beautiful auburn mane. Love you.