I got a real haircut today. I had a trim at one of those quickie places a couple of weeks ago, but it wasn't enough. I haven't had a real haircut in about 8 months. Today, I decided that was long enough.
I purposely went to a new stylist. It was good to talk to someone who had no idea who I was or what my life was like. She didn't ask me how I was doing. She didn't have that, "I have no idea what to say to you" look of concern on her face. I didn't have to tell her I was OK, when actually I don't even know what OK is anymore. Sometimes it's nice to be anonymous.
We discussed hairstyles. I showed her a picture of what I had in mind. She asked if I afraid to cut that much. That stopped me. She probably wondered why I took so long to answer. For the last 7 months, I have been looking at lots and lots of people with no hair. No hair is the least of their problems.
Finally, I told her, "I'm not afraid of a haircut. It's only hair." If I was going to be anonymous, I didn't need to open up a cancer dialogue.
I used to think haircuts were important. Now, a good haircut is nice, but it's not all that important. In fact, now I'm tempted to take some risks. I know for a fact that life can be short. Today, my haircut was fairly safe, but one day I may turn up with blue hair or a buzz cut or one of those crazy asymmetrical do's. Because I am afraid of some things - like cancer - but I am not afraid of a haircut.