Mine had too much wave, too much body. Even though my father used to say it was my crowning glory; I hated it. The Brazilians and Japanese hadn’t invented their magical treatments– so to get Mary’s hair, I had to use the tools at my disposal: hood dryers, huge rollers, my mother’s iron and ironing board.
…. until I started appearing on TV. My work demanded a more professional hairstyle….and my professional hairstyle demanded more work.
Through many more styles and many more years, I finally grew to love my hair…..right about the time this picture was taken. Right before I found out I had cancer and I would lose it .
Which is how I learned there is no such thing as a bad hair day…. when you have any hair at all.
until now….when it’s way down below my waist…..and completely age-inappropriate.
V loves it. And even though it drives me crazy to comb through the tangles, I still love it too; every last inch. Even more, I love the idea that in a few hours, 10 of those inches will go to someone else who needs it. I can’t think of a better way to start Breast Cancer Awareness Month.