It started earlier this week. My hair was falling out-slowly in the beginning and then turning into cascades. Showering lost it's appeal. The hair would run down my body with the water. It felt like spiders. Not my favorite of bugs, that's for sure. I stopped drying myself with a towel on Wednesday. All it did was make more hair fall out and the stick it elsewhere on my body. By this morning, you could see clouds of hair flying off my hair from the force of wind the hair dryer produced.
The hair, it was everywhere. I was ready. More than ready.
Kathy's stylist was kind enough to come to the house to lend a hand with the cutting. Kendra and Libby made the trek across town to photograph the event.
We'd been talking to Channing about my hair falling out for a while now. At night, when tucking him into bed, he'd reach up to push my hair back from my forehead to try to see what I was going to look like. Sometime's he'd predict beautiful. Other times, he'd choose a word a little less flattering.
This evening, he was allowed to help. Laura first trimmed my hair down with her clipper and then helped Channing with one she'd brought along for him to use. He was careful. He was thorough. In the end, he was quite pleased with his work.
WM, with his kind, kind heart, shaved his head in solidarity. Channing said he wanted to too. Unsure if he really understood what those words meant, he was given a trim instead.
Here we are. One more bald than not, happy family.
And one last thought to share tonight. It seemed appropriate for today, this piece I came across while perusing Pinterest a day or two ago.