This morning, I woke up, took a glance in the mirror, and thought: "Bowie!"
As my partner readied the iphone camera, my mom looked in the room and gasped, "Did you cut your hair?"
My partner snapped this reaction mid-chuckle.
I can't say it still doesn't hurt to laugh. It hurts.
If you'd asked me two weeks ago I may not have said the same, but by now, I've reached a point where the emotional richness of laughter outweighs the physical pain of it.
And besides. Just as I couldn't stop my mind from cheering, "Bowie!" when I looked in the mirror this morning, I couldn't have stopped the laughter if I'd wanted to.
Whether the comparison to Bowie is accurate or ludicrous is a matter of interpretation: a reminder that the stories we tell ourselves can transform a terrible hair day into a rock star hair day (or vice versa).
Bonus fun fact: My mom and I went to IHOP for breakfast this morning. "Modern Love" was playing as we walked in.
"I'm still standing in the wind
But I never wave bye bye"
P.S. I did not need a procedure yesterday after all! I'm now playing a waiting game, hoping and trusting my body will repair itself. I remind myself this often: my body likely wants to heal properly as much as I want it to. It is working tirelessly. Thank you, body.