If I had to choose, I wouldn’t do it.

I stared in the mirror, trying to accept the decision I didn’t want to make.

My friend Tamara drove my cancer princess butt because I couldn’t drive myself. We got there, and the reality of the situation set in.

I was going to have to cut off my hair.

After multiple rounds of chemo, my hair thinned more than expected. Cutting it short would save what was left. But after 10 years of growing my long, luscious hair down to my tailbone, despite years of battling autoimmune disease, it was overwhelmingly upsetting that I now have to cut it off because of cancer.

It defined me and now it felt like I was losing my identity.

The cancer, the side effects didn’t phase me. But losing my hair, it broke me.

But I had no choice.

So it was new hair, new me, as they say.

Despite how good they told me I looked, I no longer felt like me. At least my hair looked less thin.

But I felt like I was living in someone else’s body, in someone else’s life. Even though I knew the goal was survival, I couldn’t help feeling like I lost a piece of me.

With some persuading, I decided to accept the fact that I looked cool. Even though I felt anything but, hey, she’s (my friend) the one who said it. And it helped me ignore the pile of hair on the floor.

So, say hello to the new me.

➡️ Follow Jess’ cancer journey on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube.