My sister was coming over to hang out so I called her and asked her to bring some hair cutting shears. Yes, I asked my sister who body checks unsuspecting victims on the rugby field to come over with a sharp object to attack my head with. She ripped it out when we were little so why not cut it now? In all seriousness, I wouldn't feel more comfortable with anyone else doing it.
I was still wavering on what I wanted to do as I was running my hands through what remained of my hair and coming out with more and more strands wrapped around my fingers. Kristen and Craig convinced me that in a situation where I have no control over anything, this was an opportunity to take control. It was falling out no matter what, so why not speed up the process and make it more bearable? "Fine. Let's do it." But I would only do it if they would first cut me a mullet.
So I cranked up some Dave Matthews and we set up a mock barber station on the back porch. Craig pulled out the extension cord and the buzzers and Kristen got the shears ready. It started with the snip of a ponytail and it it all went down, er, came out from there. Check out the evolution of my spotty, mangly, thinning long hair to my new chic bald 'do --- with some business in front/party in the back and classic braided rat tail action in between. I only wish we had shaved in racing stripes.
My scalp feels free and my head feels liberated. It's now much more bearable to watch tiny stubbles fall to the pillow as I continue to bald than drowning in a sea of choking, long locks. Bald is beautiful. It'll just taking some getting used to the fact that I'm the one who's bald. And bonus, Craig and I look like twins. They say the longer you're married the more you start to look alike, right?