Me + My Hair = ?

I am thinking it might be time to cut my hair off. I've been hanging into the parts that the medicine hasn't taken out yet, but I'm finding more and more thinning patches.

This is another blow to my already flagging mood. I know that it shouldn't be that big of a deal. It's just hair, right? And someday it will (probably) grow back. And, even if it doesn't, I shouldn't be that vain. I should just be thankful for all my serious blessings - not sitting here grousing about hair.

But, in the meantime, it's the last physical thing that seems normal about me. With all the rest of my life in a mess, I have my body morphing into a perpetually pregnant shape, my face all chipmunk-y. Add the back aches, leg aches and red-itchy-swollen eyes... All I have left is what's left of my hair. (If I comb it just right, it's hard to tell that parts are missing.)

It doesn't really matter though. Tell the truth, most of the time I don't have the energy to deal with it. Takes too much time to fix it so that it looks normal. I have so little left on the sides that it looks shaved.

It's just hair though. I should be ashamed for even thinking about it. My blessings are too numerous and the sufferings of others are too deep for me to be worried about my hair.

It's just hair.

Peace
--Free