The Letter

Okay ladies,
if you are receiving this extremely long letter from me today, it means you are part of my core group of friends and I am soliciting your support, and or, participation in joining me on my new adventure - 40 and Fabulous.

Whether or not you have known me for many years or just a few, you know that there is never a dull moment in my life and there is always something crazy happening.

The latest wacky incident was my desire to do something different with my hair to surprise my hubby for his deployment homecoming. The kids and I were flying to Hawaii to meet his ship. He has always loved my hair long and I have certainly tried to hang on to it to please him.

But the truth of the matter is, I really could care less about having long hair. It's a nuisance when you are in a hurry to get somewhere but have to look your best. Don’t get me wrong, I want to look good, but with the least amount of effort.

Long-story short, I paid lots of money to my stylist to sew in a hair weave to my hair so that I could surprise my hubby for his homecoming. 

Oh yea, a new look, a new setting and some new shoes. It sounded like a good idea at the time. The problem is it didn’t quite turn out like I wanted. Instead of a long and sexy natural look, it was more like a mop sitting on top of my head.

I even had my stylist fix it twice, but it still looked moppy. I descretely found another stylist trim it a little to make it look somewhat normal, but to no avail. Having never had a full head of weave before, I didn’t know that it makes your head itch like a son-of-a-gun. Itching and hot, humid weather in Hawaii did not mix.

Hubby was happy to see me, hair and all, but his reaction was not at all what I expected. I mean really, how could he rush to tear my clothes off at the sight of my sexy new hair when I had this mop sitting there in place of my own.

Let’s face it, after a six-month deployment, he’s not looking at my hair anyway. Lucky for me my sweetie loves me no matter what.

After a few days of reunion bliss, I sent hubby packing with three kids and a father-in-law in tow. The took the scenic route back to San Diego via the aircraft carrier. Us Navy folk call it the "Tiger Cruise."

But one day after ship pulled out of port, I woke up with an itch. That’s it! I could not stand the mop any longer. It should have come off the moment it was put on, but stubborn me did not want to admit that I had wasted our money on the mop. Instead, I wore it as if I was Beyonce.

Now putting it in takes a bit of skill, but surely taking it out wasn’t rocket science. You cut a couple of threads and unravel the braids the thread was attached to, right? Wrong!

There I stood for hours in my girlfriend’s bathroom trying to cut the thread from the weave out of my hair. Sweating like a pig at a luau, I took off my clothing to cool off. I feared that she would come home to find me in my birthday suit, passed out in a pile of hair from heat exhaustion. So there I stood in the buff, cutting away at what I thought was weaved hair. It turned out to be my own. Don’t Ever Try This At Home Ladies!

Hours later when all was said and done, I stood examining my naked, hairless self with scissors in hand. Instead of crying for what I had done, I laughed. I felt a sense of relief, like I had just shed a layer of something that had been holding me down for years. Um, that would be the worry of what people would say or how they would react if I didn’t look a certain way.

Surveying the damage of what I had done forced me to pose the question: What do you want Nicole?
Short hair was on the list of many things that I want out of life. But for the first time since I was three, I wasn’t afraid to say it without careful consideration of what other people think.

And so began the baby-step changes to realizing 40 and fabulous. Needless to say, I wore a borrowed hat from my friend the remainder of the stay in Hawaii. I didn't give much thought of what was underneath until I boarded the plane back to San Diego.

Panic set in. “What have I done?” I tried not to cry. I texted my stylist and told her what had happened. Of course my version went something like this, "I was snorkeling and the weave got caught in my snorkeling gear ...I had to cut it out."

Yes, I know, it’s not very becoming of your friend. But I did it. I lied. She told me that she was on bed rest and would not be able to fix it for a while. It was going to be a long plane ride home. That’s when my seatmate, who clearly spent his hours prior to boarding in a bar, asked if I wanted to go in with him on some bloody Mary's? He had the right idea, so instead of one glass of wine, I asked the flight attendant for two.



I humbled myself and walked right into Wal-Mart and asked for Shayna, the stylist with florescent pink locks. I had been eyeing her for a while. She always seems to be busy and the pink hair scared me away. But who was I to judge? At least she has a license to cut hair.

She said she could help, but I was doubtful because she hadn’t even surveyed the damage hidden under my scarf. As she combed out my hair, I saw my it fully for the first time. I had been avoiding the reality for over a month. I would just brush it back without combing it out to avoid seeing what I had done.

A few hours later, Shayna did what she said she would do, “Hook me up.” She cut, colored and styled my hair. She tinted it with a burgundy color. It looks like my normal color but when the sun hits it just right, you can see a hint of burgundy. As for the cut, there was only so much a girl could do. Let’s just say, I wanted a change, and change is what I got.

Hubby was speechless for days. He finally said it looked like a mullet. My friends commented on my new look and assured me it was cute. But I sensed that whether they liked the style or not, they wanted me to be happy with it. I was not.

A few days later, I had a doctor’s appointment. It seems the skin on my neck and chest had taken on a funky color and texture. To my surprise, the doctor requested that I do a glucose screening.

Apparently changes in skin color can be a sign of diabetes. Here was my little-known-interesting fact for the day. It doesn't help that diabetes runs deep in my family.

In fact, I lost my sister to the disease two years ago. As many of you know, I took up running about three years ago. It started with a cause - to help raise money for cancer.

When that cause was over, I continued running to relieve stress. Hubby was deployed again. But in the midst of it all, my sister died. That motivated me to keep running to keep the weight off because I too was a candidate for diabetes. My doctor told me that I was on the cuff and not to worry because I exercised.

But after eight months of the same old routine, my desire for running and exercise decreased, while my love for eating anything that did not move increased. Before I knew it, I had gained all the weight that I worked hard to lose and then some.

All the cute clothes that I bought for Hawaii fit a little snug in Hawaii. Two months later, they don’t fit at all. I sat in the doctor’s office feeling defeated. My love affair with sugar and all things chocolate is over if the test comes out positive.

I went home and I prayed. The next day, I woke up with a new spirit and new attitude. It was my day and hubby was taking me up to the spa to celebrate Mother’s Day.

As I got ready, I combed out the few strands of hair and I felt something move my soul. A fire and a desire to fight whatever it was that was trying to take over my mind, my body and spirit. I embraced my hair and slicked down the sides and moussed up the top into a Mohawk. I liked what I saw.

Hubby kind of rolled his eyes, but I didn’t care. I loved it. My son who can be brutally honest as they come, runs in and immediately says, “Mommy I like your hair. Dominique, come look at mommy’s hair!”

His approval was confirmation that I was on the right track. Did I forget to mention that he has been asking for blue hair and a Mohawk for years? You see, it wasn’t the hair that I wanted to change. It was my attitude and outlook on life. And now for the reason I am sending you this very long letter.

As you may or may not know, I am turning 40 this year. My goal is to lose 40 lbs. by my 40^th birthday - not because I am vain, but because I want to be healthy. I don’t want my life to end as my father and sister’s did at the early age of 47.

The reason I am telling you this is because I have to make it public. The more support that I have, the better the results. I have set the goal and I am asking you to help, and or, to join me on this new adventure to be healthier. The benefits are endless, not just for me, but my family.

What I need from you is some encouraging words or even a quick note every now and then asking me how the journey is going?

Maybe even a workout buddy to help me along the way. Please join me on the scary, but awesome, 40 and fabulous adventure. I know that God is working in me and I just want to share.