So I said FUCK THIS. It was the week of the Boston Marathon and West disasters when I realized that *I* had control of this life and cancer wasn’t going to take everything from me. So before cancer could take my hair I decided to shave my head.
WAIT! Let me explain. I am fairly conservative when it comes to how I dress. My mouth and attitude are anything but conservative. I had a lovely swing bob. Short in the back and went to long in the front. I dyed it black (black black black number ooonnnnee) to cover my grey. And I was religious about getting it done.
I got up in front of 150 of my closest friends and explained how they were an inspiration to me and how each of them has made an impact on my life and they do the same for every person they meet. I explained that in that terribly tragic week, people needed to escape. Each of them had the power to help me escape. To hold my hand through my own tragedy and they could do the same thing for the tens of thousands of people they were going to see.
So.. I then shaved my head…
INTO A MOHAWK.
I DYED IT PURPLE.
I have ALWAYS wanted a purple mohawk. Mom told me ‘not while in my house’. Then life passes you by and then.. You get cancer and discover wigs and think, “well fuck. If I’m going to lose it anyway. Why not?”.
Best part of it is.
Mom loves it.