‘‘ONCE UPON A TIME there were three little girls who went to the police academy….”
And one of them had a fabulous haircut! From the moment I saw Farrah Fawcett on TV in Charlie’s Angels I knew I wanted to look just like her. At least in the hair department. With a long, feathered cut that bounced when I walked and seemed to be forever ruffled by a light breeze.
It took me two days to secure an appointment with my stylist for a Farrah-do. It took several hours to frost my natural light brown locks with blonde highlights, cut multiple layers, blow-dry it and finish it up with a light misting of hair spray.
Now I was going to lose it all. The brain tumor I’d battled a few years back had returned, and I needed yet another surgery to remove it.
“I know what that means,” I told my friend Carole, a fellow nurse I was working with at Cabell Huntington Hospital. “My hair will end up in a paper sack on my bedside table in post-op. Just like before.”
But back then I didn’t have hair this gorgeous! It just seemed so unfair this would happen to me now. God, can’t you find some way for me to keep my hair? I thought, knowing it was impossible.
“Oh, honey,” Carole said. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. Listen, I know the most wonderful hairdresser. I want you to make an appointment with him.”
“Carole, the last thing I need now is a good haircut,” I said.
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