I've never been a girly-girl. I've never felt the need to spend an hour in the morning getting all prettied up with makeup and whatnot. In general, I really couldn't care less about that kind of stuff. I basically never wear makeup unless it's a special occasion. (Maybe that's why the boys don't pay attention to me! Yeah, right.) Until now...
Last night, I decided I wanted to look at the back of my head, just to see the damage I was working with. I honestly didn't think it would bother me. I just wanted to see it. But as I angled the handheld mirror to look back into my bathroom mirror, I saw just how much hair I had lost, and it hit me. Everything that I've been through in the past two and a half weeks hit me. Then, my mom took the bandages off because they were peeling up anyway, and it hit me even harder. It's hard to explain, but it didn't seem quite so real until then.
Suddenly, I became superficial. All I could think about was the fact that my cute hair is gone. Why something that's never mattered to me mattered a lot all of a sudden, I don't know, but it did and does. My mom and I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to rectify the shave job Dr. F did on my hair, and we can't come up with any style that's remotely close to what a normal 17-year-old girl would want to have. And it sucks.
I know I shouldn't care. I should just be grateful that I'm alive right now, and I am, but I'm still a teenage girl. I'm leaving for college in just over a week, and when I walk on that campus, I don't want my scars to be screaming "look at the freak!" But when the back of my head is completely shaved, like we've decided I'll have to do, it'll be like a giant red arrow following right behind me. Trust me - you can't miss the incisions on the back of my head. And there's not a hat on this planet that will fit my head, either.
This seems so stupid. I should just be thankful that I still get to go to college this semester. I am. But I'm still 17 years old and I still just want to fit in and blend in. My entire life, I've tried really hard to avoid any attention that wasn't academics-related. I want to go to school and have people want to get to know me, not either ask six billion questions about my head or be so freaked out they won't want to come near me.
You don't need to tell me "It's just hair. It'll grow back." Please don't tell me that. I know that. I know it's just hair. But it means a lot when you're a teenage girl. Especially one who's facing an entirely new world at the same time she's trying to deal with recovering from something like this.