Locks of Love

I used to hate my hair. I remember as a kid getting called names like ‘fuzzy’ or ‘frizz-ball’. The truth was, I did in fact have really long, dark, frizzy hair. Half of the day it looked static-y as random hairs would flare in weird directions. I remember looking in the mirror as a nine-year-old and smiling at my gigantic blue eyes, cutely freckled nose and straight teeth. The only thing I could not bring myself to love was my hair. It was my biggest enemy, the causer of my stress, my tormentor, the one thing that flawed my otherwise photogenic appearance.

I wanted to have beautiful, luscious blond hair – as was the current style - and I planned on thinning out my thick locks as soon as I was old enough.

As I grew older, my hair became a little tamer, though it still didn’t obey the hairbrush quite the way I wanted it to, but it was better than before. It began to lose most of its frizz and fuzzy quirks. Though I still despised my hair, I never did thin it, or dye it. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to change it.

About two years ago, a friend of mine was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, a treatable form of cancer. She bravely fought cancer like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Chemo turned her insides upside down, changed her voice, and disproportioned her body.

I just cried. How do you ever prepare yourself for something like that?

She had mahogany hair that fell in beautiful tresses down her slender back. Day by day, clumps of her precious hair tumbled to the floor. My beautiful bald friend took to wearing a wig.

It was in those days of tears and heartbreak that I began to understand the ways of my precious hair. My once ugly hair suddenly gained affection in my eyes, as I vowed not to let a scissor touch it for the span of a year.

In that lapse of time, my beautiful friend finished chemo and her hair began to grow back, more gorgeous than before.

After more than a year of waiting, I sat down in the hairdresser’s salon, and asked her to cut off 13 inches. I wrapped the hair in tissue paper, packaged it, and mailed it to Locks of Love.

"Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children under age 18 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis."

I have short hair today; Hair that has its wild days, quirky twists and fuzzy appearance. Somehow though, I’m grateful. I’m grateful that my body produces more hair than I need, so that I can give to children a small piece of my beauty.

For more information about Locks of Love check out: www.locksoflove.org