It's Not Vanity, It's Common Sense

A while ago I struggled with some hair loss issues, including the loss of my eyelashes and eyebrows. I have to say, I am STILL a little blown away at the hysteria this prompted from some friends and acquaintances. It's hair. It grows back. Even when (in my case), it stays a little thin, there are options.

But I had people actually say, right to my face, that surgery, even losing my breasts, would be preferable to losing hair. Not only is that disgustingly vain, it's offensive that anyone would suggest their choices were superior to anyone else's at such a time. They're MY boobs, thanks. It's MY hair, thanks. The boobs remained. The hair grew back. I'm still alive.

Then, yesterday, a friend asked me if I had tried LATISSE, that lash growing formula Brooke Shields is pimping. I told her I would never even consider it, since the side effects are far too severe, and my lashes did grow back. You can read about those side effects here. She persisted, noting that the mascara I was wearing "wasn't really helping." I responded by pointing out that I wasn't wearing mascara... in fact, I was wearing nothing but a translucent mineral veil. She persisted some more, started to piss me off, and I pointed out that one of my favorite things about myself is the color of my eyes, which I inherited from my grandmother.

Then she called me vain.

Well, welcome to the world of massive WTF-ery. I'm so vain I prefer to keep my green eyes, rather than risk turning them brown, having my eyelids go dark, experiencing itching and redness, tightness in the chest, breathing issues, facial swelling, and "changes in vision," which is code for "damage to your freaking eyesight, moron."

I will never understand why some people feel any refusal to accept their advice is a rejection of them as a person. I don't get why people make the assumption that medical science can't possibly be a more helpful and wise course to follow than their recommendations based on the complex intellectual process known as "Google and what I heard in the break room."

But I know I'm NOT vain. Believe me, when you spend 4 months at a time with no hair, parchment skin, covered in scars and sores, lacking both eyelashes and eyebrows, and it can't keep you out of Starbucks... you're kind of the opposite of VAIN.

Also I hope your eyes turn shit brown and your lips puff up til you look like you were attacked by bees. Now go away.

You're So Vain You Probly Think This Blog is About You

Perhaps it's a bit unnatural for a writer of romance to lack a great deal of vanity. We do write a great deal about beauty, at least the conventional notion of it. I prefer to look good, but honestly... I have no intention of killing myself to get there. I can clean up pretty well. But the day to day grind finds me in jeans, t-shirts, sneakers, and very often a baseball cap. Love my Red Sox, after all, and when you wear your hair as short as I have in recent years it's great on bad hair days.

Lately, though, I've had more pressing challenges with regard to bad hair days. I have a conference coming up soon, one at which I will speak and be seen. My mom is in an absolute panic that I must attend this event without hair.

Chemo, Cytoxan, and life have robbed me of my dark locks for the moment. And honestly-- I don't care that much. My eyelashes and eyebrows have come back this month (ok, mostly) and my hair is just starting to come in-- soft peach fuzz. My solution is to wear a ball cap and deal. But I have that conference coming; and I had planned to put a pretty scarf around my noggin if I didn't have super-short spikes to go for the "moonlights as urban punk" look. Mom is freaking out at the very idea and wants me to get a wig.

Yeah. Cuz those things are soooo convincing. And the itch and panic that it's doing a jaunty tilt while I stand on a podium is nothing to worry about, right?

This is me, better or worse. I am what I am. Currently I am bald. The lack of hair up there doesn't seem to stop my brain from working. I guess my mind is fond of the cool air. So rather than fuss over any possible accidental reveals in my near future, I am putting it out there. If you could touch it you would discover that it feels a bit like a baby's head-- a tad coarser. The nice thing is, the stuff is like velcro. Anything you put up there sticks.

So you know... when I take notes there's a reliable place to put em, anyway. Plus it's spring. The snowdrops and crocuses are peeking out of the mud. Maybe something will grow on my noggin top if I fertilize it.

Feel free to post Jean Luc Picard jokes, and pass the Miracle Grow!