[2022-02-19] Haircut
I got my hair cut today, as did my daughter.
The last time I got a haircut was December 31, 2019—before COVID, cancer and chemo.
Well, I had an unofficial haircut on October 26, 2020, when my husband gave me a buzz cut. I was losing my hair anyway, having started chemotherapy three weeks before.
My hair is finer than it was before chemotherapy; it feels like a baby's hair. Otherwise, it is the same as it was before my treatments: curly in texture, salt and pepper in colour.
Today's haircut was a welcome return to some semblance of normalcy, or at least to some of the more mundane aspects of life. It reminded me of a poem by Wendy Cope:
Being Boring
'May you live in interesting times.' Chinese curse
If you ask me 'What's new?', I have nothing to say
Except that the garden is growing.
I had a slight cold but it's better today.
I'm content with the way things are going.
Yes, he is the same as he usually is,
Still eating and sleeping and snoring.
I get on with my work. He gets on with his.
I know this is all very boring.
There was drama enough in my turbulent past:
Tears and passion - I've used up a tankful.
No news is good news, and long may it last.
If nothing much happens, I'm thankful.
A happier cabbage you never did see,
My vegetable spirits are soaring.
If you're after excitement, steer well clear of me.
I want to go on being boring.
I don't go to parties. Well, what are they for,
If you don't need to find a new lover?
You drink and you listen and drink a bit more
And you take the next day to recover.
Someone to stay home with was all my desire
And, now that I've found a safe mooring,
I've just one ambition in life: I aspire
To go on and on being boring.
