I thought I'd do a light and easy hair update. Besides, who can stay sad when George Michael is wiggling his butt in your face.
But I digress...
Now, where has all my hair gone?
It seems just one dose of the Vinblastine caused it to start falling out, and, like last time, it also changed the texture. It seemed really waxy and hard to brush, but it was when I woke with a Marleyesque-dreaded unicorn horn that I knew I had to take matters into my own hands, hence the cut with my Ikea scissors.
A little Pat Benatar, but not bad, I thought. Until...
My TCM practitioner, yes, TCM practitioner, of all people, informed me as I was lying on her table that...I had "a tail."
Of hair? I implored in horror.
Yes, about this long...
Well, stirrup my pants and put me in an Wham video.
Who could know such a thing when one cannot see the back of one's head? I thought that's what friends and family were for - to tell you when you have broccoli in your teeth or when your fly is undone. Or, say, when you are sporting an 80s rat tail some twenty-five years after the fact.
I thought you people were supposed to be looking out for me. Meanwhile, I'm strutting around town (ok, maybe just the bedroom) all week with a tail that was apparently long enough to braid. Yes (be still my beating heart), braid.
But I'll get you, my pretties.
There's nothing a little El Debarge for Christmas can't fix.
(and thanks, Jenn, for tidying me up)