I’ve always been a writer at heart. In the past year I’ve been pushed out of my comfort zone of writing in my journal and sharing with the world. Thank you to all who have actually taken the time to read my post.
The idea of losing my locs is something I’m dreading right now. I’ve been growing my hair for six years. The reason I started growing them in the first place was because I was in school, and caring for a young family . I would two strand twist my hair every three to four weeks, which was an all day event might I add. My friend suggested that I loc my hair since I was natural and twisting it anyway. I thought to myself, naw I like to change my hair to much. One day I woke up and said I’m tired I’m not taking my twist down, so I begin to just allow my hair to do its own thing. I eventually had to do something to it so I looked in the mirror and started to twist my hair at the roots and over the course of a few months it locked. During this time I was nurturing my hair in the same manner you would a plant. I was researching all the necessary products, oils and techniques to give my locs the best growing environment. Going through the frizzy faze and the I’m tired of looking like a porcupine stage was the hardest. People would ask me if I was ever going to cut them. My response would be “nope I’m letting them grow until they get to my ankles.” Never in a million years did I think they would fallout on their own and certainly not because of a cancer diagnosis.
When I received the diagnosis I also received other information about what to expect during and after chemotherapy. When your receiving that information you don’t retain the majority of it. I know in my case I was there physically but mentally I wasn’t. My doctor told me that about two weeks after my first treatment I would begin to lose my hair. My body hair actually started coming out first. When I noticed the hair on my head coming out nothing could’ve prepared me for that moment so in Alex Marie fashion, I put my scarf back on and decided not to deal in that moment. Plus, my daughter was with me and I didn’t want anyone else crying because of me.
The next morning I wasn’t prepared for what happened. I woke up and felt like something was hanging from my scarf. I felt to see what it was, I was horrified, it was an entire loc hanging from the root of my head. All I could do was sob uncontrollably. My boyfriend was in the other room he heard me crying and asked why I was crying . I just took a picture of my loc and sent him a picture. (Yes we text each other while we’re in different rooms…lol) he text back your appointment is at 5:30.
Once the barber finished my cut I put my hood on my head and walked out the shop. My boyfriend asked why I had put my hood on? Fighting back tears I replied “because I look like a man” he just shook his head and said “babe you look fine.” Maybe I looked fine to him but I was everything but fine. I think every time I was alone I cried. I had become so attached to my hair. I didn’t choose to cut them. The process of growing them took so long and just like that they were gone.
The next day after my cut, I had a decision to make, to cover my head or not to. I decided not to hide from it and to just own it. I’m not going to front at any given moment that day I was on the verge of breaking down. I made it through the day without tears and I’ve been rocking this bald head of mine ever since.