Well, the day I had dreaded came yesterday. I woke up, showered, and as I was rubbing my hands through my hair to swipe away the suds, my fingers pulled away clumps of hair. It was worse when I stepped out of the shower and attempted to blow-dry my hair. My brush couldn’t get through the knots of hair and pulled our more clumps.

I gave up and called out to my girls. My dd and the 20-year-old went to work, first completing the blow-dry without bothering to brush my hair, then using my SIL’s hair clippers to shave my head. We’d been preparing for this day. I’d made tons of jokes about what my head would look like. I’d imagined a bowling-ball-round kopf. Or worse, the bald woman in Total Recall.

Or perhaps Uncle Fester.

Actually, with a little well applied smoky-eye makeup, I could be a sexier “Aunt Festrine.” Hmmm…

When the 15-year-old got home from school, she said, “You know, you look like The Ancient One in Dr. Strange.”

And I’m okay with that.

Hair is only hair. I met with the oncologist today, wearing one of my chemo hats to protect my head from the sun and spare people’s eyes. We went through where we were going with treatments. I had another white blood cell booster shot. I’m set for port surgery on Thursday and another round of chemo next Monday. I’m marching on.

And just to keep it real, here’s me after the girls shaved me bald. There will be no tears. It’s just hair…