Beauty Comes At a High Price

I could hardly believe it. 

Did I hear correctly?

Really?

"Drenda, your hair is beautiful!"

"Thank you. "

"Do you color it?"

"No."

"Is it naturally curly?  Was it like that before?"

"Yes, it is naturally curly, but not this curly.  No, it wasn't quite like this before."

"Wow!  It must make it all worth it."

"Uhhh.....no."

"Really?"

Was he trying to be funny?

"Uhhh....no.  'It' doesn't make it all worth it."

Another "I'm sure they don't listen to their words" moment.

My hair is beautiful.

And I do like it.

But having beautiful hair does not make up for the pain -- neither the physical pain nor the heart pain.   

It doesn't 'make it all worth it'.

This hair came at a high price.  

Figuratively and literally.

Each chemotherapy treatment cost thousands of dollars.  Thousands.  Each one.  And there were 16 all together.

This hair cost thousands of tears.  Thousands.  

This hair cost thousands of questions.  Thousands.

This hair cost premature aging on the part of three young women who should not have to consider their mother's mortality at their tender ages.  That is expensive.

This hair cost by becoming a defining life "moment" for my babies.  It cost much by being etched in the fabric of their lives.  

This hair cost tremendous strain on my husband.

My father.  My sisters.  My brothers.  My entire family.  My friends.

This hair cost.  And the price is high.  

And it is not worth it.  Not for the hair.

I thought my hair was kind of nice before.