"Oh, I could never wear my hair that short!"

I had the chance to visit with dear friends this weekend, all of whom are beautiful, but one in particular just got herself a sexy, swanky, sheek haircut. I loved the new 'do on her.

Seeing my friend's fierce new haircut brought on a lot of memories of my own hair-scapades over the last few years. My girlfriend said tons of people, including strangers, keep telling her "you're so brave, I could never get a haircut that short." And that sets off a vivid recollection of one of my personal cancer-patient pet-peeves ...

"You're so brave. I could never wear my hair that short." Okay. Let's point out the obvious. Haircuts don't make people brave in my book. Don't get me wrong. I am clearly not the adventurous type when it comes to my hair, but considering the world we live in, people rushing into burning buildings, fighting a war a world away, and climbing mountain tops is consider acts of bravery. A super, ridiculously short haircut, not so brave. At least not to the breast cancer patient.

You see, being bald isn't bravery in my book either. Being bald represents survival. We do not choose to be bald. We are thrown into that world, with very few options besides probably death. Baldness itself represents all that I fought for - my son, my husband, my life. Being bald was not brave. Being bald is being real. It is reality that too many women, men and children who live with cancer day in and day out are compelled to deal with.

The short hair phenomenon is a funny thing. Baldness garners the empathy from strangers and loved ones, sometimes conveyed by words, but always expressed in people's eyes. I know some friends with cancer hate "that look," but it never bothered me really.

On the other hand, having the in-between short hair is a totally different experience. You are no longer the "cancer patient," but you definitely don't feel like yourself. When I looked in the mirror with my sheek, short hair, the person looking back at me wasn't the same person I'd remember. It is a haircut defined by cancer and not one I picked on my own terms. I did not "choose" this haircut. No. I did not choose cancer either. But I did choose to fight. I choose to survive. And with that comes the baldness and the short hair.

When the clerk at the store comments "Oh, I could never wear my hair that short. You are so brave," I take her on her word. She defines bravery by a haircut. I didn't. I resented the short hair and what it represented.

Oh my, I think I am having an "ah-ha" moment right now. As I am writing it is dawning on me that my pet-peeve served as a metaphor for bravery all along. I think I was wrong all along and just maybe the clerk at the store was right. Maybe short hair is bravery and I just needed a little time to figure it all out.

To my friends with super, ridiculously short hair, "you are so brave."