FCKuCANCER.

so y’all — the majority of y’all — know me, know me. and know i have never been concerned with the hair growing out of my head. i’m lazy. i hate the extra work that hair entails. i’ve never been afraid of a big chop. and often run toward one every chance i get. the only reason many of you have even seen me in my adult years with long hair is because just as lazy as i am when it comes to hair, i am of equal measure not about to let “just” anybody play in my head. so yeah, lazy. not stupid…

after sal and i got engaged, i moved back to houston and just decided to kinda let it see what it gon’ do. i had delusions of grandeur in my head about having long flowing locs leading up to the day of the wedding, then walking down the aisle with some sort of fyre shaved concoction that everett dreamed up with a fascinator cocked to one side.

we all know it didn’t happen like that. not anywhere close. and that’s a story for another day. anywho…note to self: do not let the black man you marry know your hair can be long and curly if left alone. big mistake. when sal and i first met, i had a snap’s length worth of hair. i had literally just shaved off my dreads.

once i moved back to houston, i got in the rhythm of doing nothing with my hair til the occasional press on business trips to hartford. so, it was over. i now had to figure out balance. how to be that wife. the independent, mouthy, i am she-hear me roar — yet still manage some semblance of submission. yeah, we’ll unpack that for another day.

basically, i let him have the whole hair thing. now, i’ve cut it a few times over the years. always followed by frustrated arguments and whatnot, but whatever, i let him have that homeless beard — which i’ve actually grown to secretly nothate, don’t tell him.

i have a point. when we were in the office getting speed walked through cancer, the possibility of hair loss was gasp mentioned, and we both took a look at one another and laughed. like i know they thought we were crazy — but we both knew that losing my hair wouldn’t be a big deal. for me.

nowadays, my brother in law is the person who cuts my hair. and we have been trying to link up so i could just get it over with and not have to deal with the current length and all of these appointments while not feeling, even moreso than usual, up to dealing with it. well, we hadn’t gotten around to it before momma’s covid scare. my bil just got over lung cancer. like, i don’t want him anywhere around me til my test results come back. so i asked sal to do it. and yes, you guessed it. y’all it’s like i was asking him to cut his hair. which i guess, for him, i have allowed it to be.

he fought me tooth and nail. in his own way. it took me putting things into a harsh perspective before he begrudgingly agreed. all i can say is words were uttered — i shouted — WELL, ALSO, I DON’T WANT TO HAVE CANCER, BUT HERE WE ARE, and stormed out of the house. i fully admit, not my best moment.

i know this is not just happening to me. i’m sure there are much better ways i could’ve handled that situation. but i mean damn. to me it is JUST hair. guess i didn’t see that, for him, it’s like what the port placement surgery did to me — cutting my hair, made this shit real.