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Premature Balding

I think of Bald and I think of George Costanza. I am a vain person. I'll be the first to admit it. My hair is seriously falling out now, and I'm going to be way balder than George could ever be. My "happydom" has come to an end, momentarily. This was something I knew I couldn't prepare for. How can you, really?

I almost cried about it today when Jon asked me how I was doing. It hit me that it's just a matter of time now. My sad little ponytail is about half the thickness it normally would be. It's weird. I will be bald and have no choice in the matter. Oh dear. I don't like this one bit. It's the only outward sign of me being sick. That makes me uncomfortable. It's that more than the hair, maybe. Sick – I hate that word, and I don't feel sick. I need an alternate and am ridding it from my vocabulary. Under the weather? That's better.

Next week I will have to go to work for the first time wearing a wig. I told Jon I hope no one notices. I haven't really told anyone at work other than my a few people, and I don't plan on it at this point. I mean, who really wants to make a big deal about it? Not me. At some point, I might just tell the right person and let it makes it way. I'm undecided. I think two days and counting. I'll be like a hairless cat before the weekend is done.

I tried "Lola" on tonight. I think I like her, kinda better than my own hair.

The Incredible Shrinking Woman

Retail Therapy vs. Chemotherapy