Identity Crisis: Cancer-Style
I’ve been having a heck of a time lately figuring out what to do with myself, looks wise. Should I grow my hair out? Should I dye it a different color?
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m having a mid-life crisis on top of going through menopause. I’ll bet Ken is excited about all of these life changes.
I’m 46 fricken years old and I can still hear my mother in the background of my subconscious saying, “Maria Ann, you look so much better in short hair. Why don’t you cut it?” When I was a kid, I always wanted to grow it long, but my mom always managed to find me with a scissors. As a teenager, I alternated between shoulder length and short-as-a-boys’ haircuts.
If you look back over this blog at all (you should… it will be fun), you will notice that I’ve had blond hair, gray hair, and brunette hair. I think from now on, I will be thankful that I have hair. It wasn’t always so.
In my very first blog post, I said I’d never have a bald picture on my blog. I see I really stuck to my guns on that one.
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