“The beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my hair…” are the lyrics from Hair, the award-winning Broadway musical that opened in 1968 and shocked the world with rule-bending lyrics and the entire cast performing nude on stage.
I listened to the Hair album on the stereo console the size of a twin bed in our family’s basement, dancing alone and mourning the pixie cut my mother insisted I get.
I loathed it, even if Twiggy, then the "It" model, had one. I was 10 that year and missed my long blonde hair that I could twist into pigtails, braids or a ponytail.
My pixie ended all those options. When it grew out, I vowed never to don short hair again. For more than five decades, I flipped and fluffed my beloved shoulder-length hair.
At 66, I am again an involuntary representative of a pixie cut. As a cancer survivor — now twice — I lost all my hair recently from nearly 10 months of chemotherapy and radiation. Since May of 2024, I am cancer-free and my hair is growing back very slowly.
I have tight, four-inch curls bursting from my skull in every direction. Adjusting to an entirely new body profile was one thing after a radical mastectomy. But I was emotionally unprepared for how off-kilter I felt with tightly wound hair spirals that shoot straight up and out to the sides, like Bozo the Clown.
As an alternative, the dark blonde wig I got through the American Cancer Society without cost was beautiful on the head stand, but uncomfortably hot on my real head. It also had its own mindset about shifting and sliding so much that I had to clamp it down with a very tight headband.
I don’t know how Tina Turner did wigs so beautifully for so long. It did help — a little — seeing actress Jenna Fischer (whom many of us love from playing Pam on The Office) speak about her insecurity after hair loss from breast cancer treatments.