As the sun set over Long Beach Wednesday evening, Marvin treated me to my second introduction to baldness. First, he cut my hair all over, then buzzed it and, finally, after nearly 45 minutes, gave me that patent leather look. With my new aerodynamics I can fly much faster with my walker. Look out, everyone.
How to look good sans hair . . .
Tattoos would be too expensive, not to mention painful in my opinion, and, of course, risky during chemo. Maybe I’ll get some Mehndi–don’t know that I can do it myself, so I’ll have to investigate this further. Maybe a local artist can use my head as a canvas.
Maybe I can make some money with it. Like people who hook up with companies to silkscreen ads on their cars. What would I advertise . . . Zofran, Compazine, Ativan . . . maybe I should work up a campaign . . . look at me, walking around, dancing, nausea free.
Unless I find something so outrageously fun to wear that it would be worth the discomfort, I will forego the wigs. I can’t stand wearing a wig, as I discovered the first time I shed my hair. I wear a scarf sometimes, so from time to time I’m sure I’ll decorate with one from my vast and colorful collection. But, with the heat of SoCal it’s likely I’ll be simply bald–no, boldly bald.
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