Bald Is (Not Always) Beautiful

This post is going to be a challenging post for me to write, because I am not proud of what I am about to admit, simply because it seems so petty. In the grand scheme of things, there are many more pressing matters to attend to, so many things more deserving of my time and energy. However, it is there, popping up at the most inconvenient or absurd of times. There are times when I should be focused on other thoughts, when this should be the last of my aspirations, especially after all I have been through and all I have learned along the way. Here is my confession, my dirty little secret:  I have an innate desire to be found beautiful. There. I said it. This desire is echoed by many women across the globe, so I am not unique in that sense. However, one would think that the bigger concern of NOT DYING would preoccupy most of my mind, and I would have little time or energy to lament the general degradation of my physical appearance. And one would be wrong.

A little girl twirling in a poofy dress, a teenager slowly walking down the stairs to her first date, a bride looking into the eyes of her new husband on their wedding day, a woman dying of cancer- they all share a common thread: they all crave to be found desirable, to be made to feel lovely.

The (De)evolution of my hair during my last battle with cancer.

   Before I went in for my first diagnostic surgery.

 The fabulous Katie giving me my "Cancer Cut" 

(and, in true Katie fashion, making it look so jazzy!)

Halfway through my last treatment cycles,

celebrating my darling little brother's homecoming

 from Children's Hospital Burn Unit.

 One of the best days of my life, to date. 

For the past 48 hours, my yearning to be found beautiful has intensified exponentially. Why? If you have not already guessed, its because THE moment that every female cancer victim dreads has arrived, and it came with a vengeance. In less than 24 hours, I went from a head full of curly hair to, literally, not having a single hair on my head...all without the help of a razor. I stared in disbelief as my dear husband gently brushed his hands across my scalp, and strand upon strand of my hair slowly fell to our bathroom floor. We made stale attempts at humor, valiantly trying laugh off the fact that cancer has taken yet another thing away from me. And when I could no longer pretend, Jeff held me while I cried quietly onto his lap. At that moment, I simply could not handle one more loss, not even of something as trivial as hair.

 Humor. It makes the world go 'round.

You're welcome. 

 The massive amount of hair that we were able

to gently tug from my head. No razor was needed.

Try to compete against me in a "Mr. Clean Look Alike Contest."

Go on. I dare you. 

Because it was more than hair that I lost. I lost a sense of well being, a sense of identity. I was devastated because a bald head is the calling card of the sick and dying. And I am so tired of being sick.  Once again, I am unable to step out of my house without the world knowing what I am fighting for my life. Once again, I am being reduced to the Cancer Kid. Sickness has become my identity and I long to be something more. To be Important. To Matter. And, pettily, to be Beautiful- to not look like I'm dying.  I was shaken more than I care to admit. 

The challenging part is, as of right now, I have no resolution. I have no magic formula to make a woman, or myself, feel beautiful. I have no great words of wisdom this time around. I tried to think of verses about how we are all precious to God, and the first one that popped into my head was Matthew 10:29-30:

"What is the price of two sparrows- one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered."

*Sigh* So not helpful. (If you are confused, please reference the above picture.)

So why write a post at all? I am writing this is because I promised transparency throughout this journey. Life is not always beautiful, this I know well. Currently, I am not beautiful, in the traditional sense of the word (but I have a great personality!). I understand this does NOT mean that I am not precious. My husband proved this while holding me as sobs racked my body that night. He whispered beautiful words in my ear, and he kissed me like I was desirable, even riddled with the side effects of cancer. (A better partner I would be hard-pressed to find. God continually uses Jeff to display His love to me.) 

I also am aware that I am precious in the sight of my Savior, and really this should be all that matters. He is sufficient. Does this mean that I have magically been given the confidence to strut around, bare head exposed to the world? No. I can hardly do that in my own home, at this point. I apologize if you were reading this thinking I would have 10 Easy Steps to Feeling Beautiful. Sometimes, there is no quick route to superficial beauty. Luckily, that kind of beauty, by definition, only scratches the surface. What God is helping me realize throughout this process is that external beauty is not something that I should treasure. Charm is deceitful, and beauty fades (Proverbs 31). I am being forced to spend less and less time being concerned with appearances and, instead, am focusing on the words of Peter: 

"Do not let your adorning be external...but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious." (1 Peter 3:4)

Even more applicably (for me) is 2 Corinthians 4:16:

"SO we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day."