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  • Kathryn Wright

The big head incident. (Not the fun kind.)

So anyone that knows me knows that I have a loud annoying laugh.


Like, super annoying.


Super, SUPER ANNOYING.


AKA, you know that *sound* that comes from a group of women at happy hour at Applebee’s on a Friday night? Dad is watching the kids, mom is out with the girls. A night sponsored by wine and (although *only* one...one too many) tequila shots laugh?


Yeah. So take that sound, (and I’m talking about the sound of MULTIPLE women here)...and turn up the volume.


Turn it up a little more, but make the octave higher.


Not quite there yet. Higher.


Yup...We have arrived at our destination. I think. Make sure your have your surround sound turned on.


That is my laugh. I sound like a hijacked banshee from hell that just smoked jazz cigarettes hand crafted by “THE DUDE” himself.


...Okay. I’m rambling. The point of this, is that I have come to terms with my laugh. I realized (after being told many times and working through copious amounts of denial) that I was the loudest most obnoxious person in the room. Yeah. I’m THAT person.


It was a process.


Denial. Accep...


Denial. Denial. Denial.


...Denial.


Acceptance.


But...positive thinking. I found my calling!!


Gross. I feel like “found my calling” is too cliche.


Hmmm...but it sounds good. Fuck it. Okay, so I found my “calling.”


I was doing the lords work. I embraced my place in the world. I was the STFU villain in every restaurant, movie theater, and public place I went.


Dealing with annoying In laws? Fuuhget about it.


Girlfriend/boyfriend problems? Fuuhget about it.


Awkward tinder date that you want to escape but your best friend isn’t calling you on your pre-planned save call because her phone died and she can’t find her charger aka her life is just as screwed up as yours is? FUUHGET ABOUT IT.


Because, while you are in the midst of this problem, there is a piercing banshee laugh that comes out.


Brought to you by me.


What does this mean?

a) you can no longer hear their annoying-ness over my laugh.

b) you now have a legitimate excuse to GTFO of whatever situation you need to GTFO of.


...like I said. Lords work.


So after accepting hero status (you’re welcome), I moved on with life.


Then, cancer happened.


And chemo.


And finally, hair loss.


So I know that long ramble had you going WHAT THE FUCK IS THE POINT OF THIS STORY. My point, is that I think having a laugh as loud...traumatizing...did I mention LOUD???...as I do but overcoming it, is a big deal. I worked through my issues. I made it. #selfcare


But...holy crap.


No.


No no no.


No no no nooooooo NOOOOO.


The big deal is...my head.


My big head. My huge head.


Like, we’re talking about a $100 dollar Uber ride from my eyebrows to the top, and a $525 ride going from eyebrow to eyebrow...the long way.


**I’m just thankful there’s not surge pricing at the moment.**


Also. The part of my birth story including a 72 hour labor and...other stuff...makes sense now. (Sorry mom). Love you.


So after my spray tan incident (see previous post) and hair rapidly falling out in clumps, I decided to have a hair shaving party of one.


I charged my phone, took a shower, got out of said shower, blasted some Beyoncé (I promise I listen to other music...but these are the moments life gives you that require Sasha Fierce). I lined up my makeup on the counter like a “social media influencer” about to do a makeup tutorial.


“Heyyy guys, so I know you want to know about my makeup regimen so thought I’d share.” Um...actually no one asked. But okay.


(*Silentlyjudgesbutstillwatchesthewholethingtojudgeafterwardsbutalsodefinitelyusesnewmakeuptipsandstartsjudgingmyself*).


But yeah.


I beat my face. THE GLOW UP. At this point Im feeling fabulous-ish (hey, I’ll take what I can get.) AND still tan, so that helped.


But then, I look at my ever increasing bald spots and realize how big my head is.


I can’t do it. I can’t shave it.


I chickened out. Which is utter crap because it’s just hair, right?


No. I just...I can’t do it.


I decided to wait a few days, at least until the end of the week. Or...at least until the head scarves arrive. I have to be able to fully say goodbye...whatever that means.


But! My makeup is on FLEEK. So, maybe I can squeeze out a few selfies.


What makes selfies pop? LIGHTING. Oh, and...FAKE EYE LASHES. My bathroom lighting is on point, AND I have fake eyelashes!!!


Maybe this day won’t be a total fail.


First eye...success.


Second eye...crap.


Crap crap crap.


FUCK.


I’m now spray tanned, pasty white, semi-bald, and ripped out half of my lashes on one eye.


The point of this story is that the “shaving my head party of one” is currently postponed. But it will be happening soon. Beyoncé will be the DJ. When? Idk. Spontaneity is the spice of life.


But it’s not happening today. Today is not that day.


Today is the day I don’t shave my head. Today is the day I laugh. And cry. But mostly laugh.

And breathe. Because I am still alive.

✌🏻


#TookaDNAtest #turnsoutim100percentthatbitch


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