My continuing obsession with your hair

“Your” in the headline is the editorial “your,” meaning anyone other than me. Hair is the first thing I notice on people these days as I ponder my rapid hair loss.

I notice the color, texture, cut, style, the way it moves when you walk, the unconscious way you play with it as you talk. I envy that you can run you hands through your hair without consequence, tug on it without having to think about where you’ll throw what you pull out.

This was the first morning I didn’t lose handfuls of it in the shower. That’s because here isn’t much left to lose. I feel like I look sick, and that bothers the hell out of me. I don’t feel sick---why look that way?

Anyway, today is Day #2 in Hats. I’m officially bothered enough by my extreme hair loss that I don’t want to be seen in public without a hat. Yesterday I wore the blue “Life is Good” baseball cap; today’s it’s the brick red "LIG" cap.

It’s hard enough coordinating shoes with my daily wardrobe (I have too many shoes), now I have to coordinate my head gear.

Tomorrow is Chemo Day, Treatment #2. Four hours of toxic fun. At least I don’t have to worry about it making my hair fall out.