Cancer-grrl’s hair started falling out this week, and she induced me to shave my own greying locks in a show of solidarity. So this morning, buzz-buzz — off they came.
Apart from the occasional hangover this is probably the closest I’ll ever come to chemotherapy. Blessed with superior genetic makeup (probably a result of many generations of abandoning weak babies in the snow), my family is virtually unknown to cancer. The men in my family live into old, old age and generally die of quiet stoic bitterness, if they don’t get walloped with a frying pan first.
So if anyone out there has friends in chemo, take a leap and shave it off.
UPDATE
By popular demand, here is my scalp. OK, it’s not completely hairless. I got as close as I could with the electric clippers. Hey, solidarity has its limits.
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