Yep. I do.
When I was in eighth grade, I went to a football game at my future high school. Walking through the student section, I saw these girls with long, luscious, perfectly curled hair. At the height of my awkward stage (eighth grade doesn't look good on anybody), it was all I could do not to gawk at the sight.
I still had an irrational fear of curling irons then.
I couldn't use one until well into my freshman year of high school.
I digress.
Anyway, I wanted hair like that. And finally, I conquered the curling iron, I took biotin and fish oil, and my hair grew.
And grew.
And I loved it.
It kinda made me feel like Belle, or Elsa, or Katniss. And it kinda balanced me out as well--I'm tall, the long hair offsets the 35 inch inseam.
But then I overheard a girl in one of my classes this past semester talking about her experience with Saint Baldrick's. If you haven't heard of the organization, Saint Baldrick's raises money for childhood cancer research. Volunteers shave their heads to raise funds and to show solidarity for children undergoing treatment. She had shaved her head in support, but it had come at a cost.
"I want to feel beautiful, because I want the kids to feel beautiful. But I don't. I just want people to stop staring at me."
I turned just in time to watch her wipe a tear from her cheek.
Cancer freaking sucks.
What it does to people, to families, to friends....cancer sucks.
I've lost both grandmas to cancer. One of my teammate's mothers died from the disease as well--she was probably one of the sweetest, most genuinely positive people I've met. One of our family friends has just had her last round of chemo, and following her journey online--headscarf and all--has been truly inspiring.
I've been angry at cancer. I've been sad, and I've felt powerless in its wake.
But, as I gathered my hair into a ponytail...I realized that maybe there was something that I could do.
I can't find the cure for cancer. Ask anyone, I've skillfully avoided taking my required science classes so far and I'm dreading taking Nutrition next semester.
But I can raise funds.
And I can donate my hair.
And so...today, I donated 12 inches of my hair to Pantene Beautiful Lengths.
(Forgive the pun on the ruler)
It's a small contribution. My hair won't be close to enough to make a wig--it'll be combined with 6 or 7 other donations to make the final product.
It's not much. But it's a start. And maybe it'll help someone feel "normal" or "beautiful," although I know they don't need my hair to do that.
I'll miss my hair. I already miss my hair. But not as much as my mother and my aunt miss their mother, or as much as I miss my Grandma, or as much as the friends and family of Kindra Mitchell miss her.
Soon, I'll be raising funds for St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. If you would like a donation letter, let me know. It doesn't have to be much. It just has to be a start.
I'm off to pick up some fish oil and biotin.
Here's to more changes in 2015.
