Hair Sharing (a.k.a. Growin' It Out For Cancer, Month 2)

Back by popular demand...

So for those of you who have been clamoring at Teresa and pestering her about my posts and why I'm not writing more here and where are the posts about my hair, I thank you. Clearly I'm the break-out star on this blog (eat it, Seamus and Dr. Karam) and it's nice to know that I already have a built in fanbase before I ditch this low-rent scene like Clooney on "ER," Timberlake and 'Nsync, or Sting and The Police (if you can think of a better analogy for a member of a music group/TV ensemble who split from it and then went off to an even more lucrative solo career, please let me know in the Comments section so I can fuel my own ego) and head off on my own exceptionally successful solo blogging career (more on that later)...

But now, what you've all been waiting for: it's been exactly 31 days since I got my haircut for the final time in 2009, so it's time for another Growin' It Out for Cancer update. It's hard to tell from the picture up and to the left--since Teresa did such a crummy job taking it. What, you think I stop harping on her and cut her some slack just because she has cancer? Please--but my hair has grown almost 3/4 of an inch in the past month, slightly above the human average of a 1/2 inch per month. So while it's still lush and manageable, it is starting to develop into its classic pompadour mould. The front and profile shots better demonstrate this phenomenon:


Goddamn, I'm a handsome man. So as you can see, we're starting to get some layer differentiation between the top and the side along the part, and my primary back cowlick is doing its spiky, stand-uppy thing it always does. There hasn't been much growth on the sideburn (probably because I shaved today) and the back is juuuuuuust starting to brush up against the collar. It still looks short from afar, but it's starting to bulk up. When you run your fingers through it (ladies, just use your imagination), you can feel the hair pulling against your fingers. Not because it's unwieldy, but because of the bulk of the growing follicals.

So that's the update for this month. I expect we'll see some radical change next month when we get another 1/2 - 3/4 of an inch of length added on, the top starts to mushroom, and the back corners began to thicken like kudzu and drift down over the collar. I still won't look like a hippie just yet, but I'd probably get kicked out of the military with this particular style (well okay, maybe not the Air Force).

Anyway, that's the update. Continue to remain enthralled and send Teresa all of your feedback positive and negative (but mostly positive) through the Comment section below.

See you next month!
Chris

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Okay, back to me--this is Teresa again. Here to defend myself. Ah forget it. The picture didn't really serve its purpose, so I did mess up but it's not like you need more details on Chris's hair (but I will tell you he shaved just because he knows his mom is reading the blog and she hates it when he doesn't shave!)

But in other hair news....yeah, mine is leaving this mortal coil. But again, not like I was told it would happen. I was told (and I'd read) that your "body hair" goes before the hair on your head. Well, I kinda knew that would be an interesting call. I'm a relatively hairless person. I'll borrow a line from my father: "Hair don't grow on steel." (He says it in reference to his chest. He's of a generation that preceded men shaving their chests. Plus, he's from Georgia. Say it with a southern accent. Yep. You got it.). See, the hair on my arms could fall off all at once right in front of you and you wouldn't notice. Neither would I. Same with the upper half of my legs (I don't shave the top half--never have and never have needed to; and you just plain can't tell. TMI?) Chris and I both looked tonight and we can't really tell if there's been hair loss. But when I got up and brushed my hair this morning an unusually large portion of it stayed in the brush. Okay, granted, after the hell that was my Monday and the purgatory that was my Tuesday, this was the first real brushing my hair had in 48 hours, so maybe it started yesterday but day old hairspray and the sweaty mass that it was in just kept it all sort of glued on (TMI again?). So I finished gently brushing it out and then took a shower, fully expecting I would see most of it pile up in the drain. It didn't happen. Not much came out at all. Some, but not much.

Naturally, I used a ton of conditioner to make combing it out as easy as possible. Which worked. I lost a little more while combing, but again there are no gaping bald spots on my head. So, next up was the styling issue. I really wanted to stretch this out one more day (okay, honestly, I'd like to stretch to Friday so my "regularly scheduled" head-shaving could occur). So I opted to let my straight, wimpy, totally unstyled hair dry by itself (confident a blow dryer and round brush and all that would be my hair's true demise) and then I pulled it back as gently as I could into the ever-classic ponytail. At least that's what I told myself. Of course all day I expected the ponytail to just fall off.

Once I got home, ponytail intact, I was convinced that when I took my hair out of the ponytail it would then just drop to the floor ( like a rubber band was somehow holding my hair onto my head; apparently I have dramatic flair. Who knew?). Again it didn't. So now I'm convinced that when I get up tomorrow morning, my hair won't. It will just stay right there on the pillow sleeping in. And if so, of course you will all find out which wig was the winning wig (winning in this case meaning purchased; which may or may not be the top vote getter--it's my chemo world; I get veto power. Call me W. No, don't. Don't you dare.) Because I have two new client meetings tomorrow and I don't think a bald or wild stray-haired partially bald attorney is what anybody has in mind, so I don't want to scare them off.

On a lighter, more floral note, Chris did mention that Duane and Kelly Roberts sent flowers on the very day I was shaking and baking and losing all my white blood cells. I don't think they knew that but their timing was terrific. And Chris was indeed joking about wine instead...he knows I can't drink that anymore (sadly, it all tastes like dirt now due to those great metallic taste buds of mine). But honestly, they could have hidden a case of wine in this arrangement and we wouldn't find it for months. Look at this thing!! Okay, wait, maybe you can't tell scale from that. Once again, it's Seamus to the rescue. Okay, Seamus weighs 30 pounds and is probably 15" tall. Here he is dwarfed by the flowers:

Now that was a nice surprise to receive on such a crappy, crappy day. So thanks Duane and Kelly, and Carol who helped arrange it, and the poor Flowerloft delivery person who had to carry this! (But doesn't Flowerloft do fantastic work??)

And on a final, final note: Which do we think will get out of control first--Chris's hair or his ego? Alright, he deserves to feel good about himself. He's been awfully good with his two cancer patients lately. Oh! Seamus's cancer check up went just fine yesterday. And yes, Chris had to drive him to Tustin for that. Funny isn't it? Well, maybe not to Chris.