The haircut.

So. I got my hair cut today.

My doctor had recommended that I do this for two reasons: 1) The hair will fall out less easily and frequently if it's not as heavy; and 2) The experience of hair falling out will be less traumatic if there is less hair to begin with.

So, I got my hair cut today. And it was a disaster.

I should preface by saying that I had my usual stylist do the cutting. I went in with a specific idea: short in the back, long in the front with sweeping side bangs. I have never really had a cut like this before, so I was really nervous. I told my stylist what I wanted, showed her a few pictures, and she confirmed what she would be doing for me. She was adamant that she would do whatever it took to make sure I didn't look like a boy (her words). I also mentioned the cancer, not to get sympathy, but to caution that my emotions might run rampant.

I wear glasses and can't see without them, so I had to trust my husband's judgement as the stylist was cutting away. Note to self: Do not trust the opinion of one's husband, who thinks you look beautiful no matter what. He has a biased opinion.

The stylist says she's done, so I apprehensively put on my glasses and brace myself for the worst. And, oh boy. My mind was all, "What the hell is this?" while my mouth went, "No, no, no. No, no, no. I don't like it. This is all wrong. This is not what I asked for." And then I promptly burst into tears.

You see, it was long in the back and short in the front. I looked like a boy, which I wouldn't mind normally, but it was like an ugly boy, which is so much worse than anything I could have expected. And I was also upset because I am not an emotional person and I hadn't cried much over my cancer, but somehow all of these mixed feelings came to the forefront right there in the salon.

Anyway, my stylist became all defensive, like, I'm not cutting anymore of your hair because you're obviously too emotional right now. Then, she had the nerve to get her manager and tell him that I shouldn't be charged for the haircut because I wasn't happy with it. In theory, I probably would have asked for a comped haircut, since it was such a disaster (I wore a hooded coat the rest of the day), but the way she phrased this statement, plus her tone of voice, indicated to me that she thought I had intended to get a free haircut out of her right from the start, which was not the case.

I felt so affronted by the whole thing. First, she insulted my emotional state, and then she insulted my integrity. I said, "Look, I am paying for this haircut. I may not like it, but you spent two hours on my hair and I want to pay you for your time and service." I tipped, too, because she did work hard, even if it was a horrible job. Some people aren't really equipped to cut short hair, I suppose.

Anyway, I finally had the courage to show my mother-in-law, who was gracious enough to fix part of the cut, and then my sister-in-law fixed the rest. It looked much better and I felt much more confident in myself once I got over the initial shock and became used to the idea of short hair. If I've learned anything from this experience, it's that I am very vain.

UPDATE:

So, apparently I'm uninsured now. Which is absolutely ridiculous, because I'm a full-time employee of a major Ivy League institution (#1 in the country! Go Tigers!) and I'm still working there until I start chemo. Yet, somehow, my insurance has canceled my coverage so I have all of these doctor's offices calling me to cancel my upcoming appointments and scans, stuff that I had booked weeks ago. I've been on the phone with HR and with insurance, and they can't figure out what the problem is because according to them I am insured. Ugh. Insurance companies. What. A. Nightmare.