OFF WITH HER HAIR

Women are obsessed with their hair. I think it's fair to make that a statement and not an assumption. A strong statement. Up there with: The earth is round. Men take their hair semi-seriously, sure, but they know, because they've seen it on their grandfathers, fathers, teachers, coaches, sports heroes and movie heroes that they may lose it. Bruce Willis is why men do not stress their hair.

It's different for woman. We see no bald. We see femininity and hair perpetually linked in a knot of perfectly-coifed updo. When woman on the screen shave their hair it's to come across as androgynous and macho (Sigourney Weaver in Alien; Demi Moore in G.I. Jane) or it's to shed them of every ounce of their femininity and person (a bawling Anne Hathaway in Les Miserables; every hysterical America's Next Top Model girl chosen to receive the buzz chop). Long, flowing, Botticelli locks are THE definitive beauty standard for women. It therefore comes as no surprise to me that some women opt out of Chemo because they fear losing their hair. It's that important to us. 

This brings me to my recent buzz cut. In order to have your wig fitted properly you have to have your hair short enough. Half an inch to be exact. I did it a few days ago. Did I crumble? Did I lay down and die? Oh no not I. Break into massive musical song and dance hair-shearing number. Fade back to blog. I survived. I didn't shed a tear. And when all was said and shorn; I really like my shaved head. I feel tough. I feel cool. I turn up JZ in my Volvo and peace-up sideways to my homegirls in carpool. This mama's got swagger. Whatever that means. 

Of course I'm going to lose the little I have now. It's already started to come out when I towel dry my scalp. Chemo's not letting me off that easy. But when that happens I have a long, flowing, gently-highlighted, thoroughly feminine, JAP wig to don. But that is another blog.