Mane Event

You know what I randomly noticed today?

I have great hair.

It is thick, thick, thick, and strong, with lots of body.

It is shiny and feels great to run my fingers through.

It feels even greater when someone else runs their fingers through it.

It catches the sun in interesting ways, highlighting the different shades of blonde.

I don't necessarily do a lot with my hair, I'm pretty low-maintenance. And it's cool with that. I don't even have to brush it unless I'm pulling it back: just scrunch and go works well.

Maybe some people don't even think it's particularly great hair, as hair goes. But I enjoy it immensely, so that's ok. I hope everyone thinks their own hair is awesome. I gripe because I wish it was straight, but really the curls aren't so bad, they're good for challenging my control issues.

Contrast to a couple few years ago, when it was brittle and dull and alarmingly thin. No sheen. No density. No vive. I can't tell you how many bottles of Drano I went through trying to clear the hair clogs in my tub and sink, because I lost handfuls of it every time I showered.

And scarier than that is how numb and ambivalent I felt as I watched it shed and die. I observed it clinically, dealt with the inconvenient mess, and went on with my day, not registering any fear or emotion or misgivings.

I do not miss those days and the me that inhabited them.

Pretend my hair is curtains. It's like the difference between this:

And this:
Just a friendly reminder that you restore way more than your weight in recovery.

And to jump topics in wrapping this up, I got not one but TWO, count 'em dos stickers at therapy yesterday, one for exercise and one for eating challenge (I ordered a non-salad entree at dinner with Match Tuesday night, and it turned out to be kind of scary and not what I expected when they brought it out, but I dealt). They join the collection.