Today, think about donating your hair. I know the thought of giving up your precious locks is scary, but it can make the difference in someone's life -- particularly if that someone is a cancer patient who had part ways with vanity long ago to save their life. Interested? Check out this post from The Beauty Brains on how and where you can donate your hair.

Here's the catch: Most hair donations need to be between 8 and 10 inches long, and often (but not always,) it need to be virgin hair -- hair that is not coloured or chemically treated. But if you fit the bill, you can make a world of difference.

My hair is not so short, not so dark, not so curly anymore. And the shock of what sprouted from my head following chemotherapy is not so startling anymore. I guess it's a combination of my getting accustomed to my new look and the fact that lately, my hair is a changin' -- once again -- and this has me somewhat numbed to all things hair-raising in my life.

I was born with straight, blond hair. And I wore these locks on my head for 34 years. Until cancer came a knockin', chemotherapy came a drippin', and my hair went a tumblin'. Bald brought quite an adjustment. And so did the stuff that replaced my pre-chemo hair.

For almost two years now, I have been peering in the mirror at short, brown, curly hair. It took some time, but I grew to like my new look. And now, just as I am feeling OK about my changed appearance, my hair is taking another turn.

Naturally, my hair is longer. That's what happens when chemotherapy becomes a thing of the past. So this is not so surprising. But as my hair grows and gets heavier, my curls are transforming into waves. And I wonder if my curls will continue to disappear as my hair continues to grow. Will my hair be straight again one of these days?

With each passing day, my hair also gets lighter as it slowly fades from dark brown to light brown with a tint of red and a hint of blond. Will my hair be blond again one of the days?

Someone once told me that cancer is temporary. Someone else told me this is not true -- there's nothing temporary about the way cancer changes a life forever. I think I agree. Because as I study my hair, I realize that all of its temporary phases are really just a sign of the permanence cancer has left branded on my body and soul.

The topic of my hair is often the subject of conversation -- and is a constant reminder that this brown curly hair I have covering my head is nothing like the straight blond hair I was born with, grew up with, was known for. Because my little boys have white blond hair, I am consistently asked by strangers, "Where did your boys get that blond hair?" "From me," is what I want to say because it's the truth -- but that would make no sense to anyone who does not know me, anyone who does not know that my hair -- that once looked much like my boys' hair -- was lost to chemotherapy and returned shockingly different. So sometimes I just chuckle in wonder with these strangers who may not expect an answer anyway. Or I tell them the story -- if they seem to really want in on the details of the mystery. Most people are surprised that my hair grew back like it did. I am not surprised -- I was warned that it might happen -- although it is still a startling discovery each time I look in the mirror, each time I look back at photos, each time I see gray hairs emerging through my dark hair -- gray that only slightly showed up in the midst of my blond locks.

The memory of my blond hair keeps popping up. My husband told me the other day that he had a dream about me -- I was in a restaurant, at a table, by myself. He was walking toward me. And I had blond hair. The rest of the dream is insignificant. The blond hair is significant. And the other day, I pulled my brush out of my purse. It hasn't been used in more than a year -- because I don't brush my curls at all -- and at the base of the brush, wound around the bristles, were long blond strands of hair. My blond hair. My old hair. The same hair I showed my friend who visited from Ohio last week -- the hair that was once on my head, was cut off in preparation of the great fallout, and is now kept in a ziplock bag.

I like my brown hair. I like my curls. But I miss my blond hair. I am sad that I no longer match my children, that I don't look like the bride in my wedding photo, that I will attend my 20-year high school reunion in two years and will wear a photo name tag that looks nothing like me. I like the familiar -- which is why I never wanted to show my bald head, why I covered my head with blond wigs and hats to keep my appearance as close to normal as possible. And then in a strange turn of events, my hair grew back in an unfamiliar fashion -- and somehow the question, "I see where your boys get that blond hair" flip-flopped into "Where did your boys get that blond hair?" It is all still new to me. I know one day it will become familiar and normal and not such a big deal. Some day. I hope.

I woke yesterday morning to voices on the Today Show telling me that the use of hair dye is linked to incidences of lymphoma -- a general term for a group of cancers that originate in the lymphatic system. I know I've heard in the past about the possible link between cancer and the chemicals that add color to hair -- but the connection has never been revealed as very strong and the topic did not ever apply to me so I filed the information in the back of my mind. But now, it appears the link may be stronger than originally thought -- and I recently dyed my own post-chemo brown hair -- so I listened more intently this time and learned about the study that implies that touching up my roots may not be a wise practice.

The results of a European study, appearing in the July 1 issue of the American Journal of Epidemiology, reveal that roughly 10 percent of lymphomas in women could be caused by the use of hair dyes. The data suggest a small increase in risk -- and clearly more research is necessary -- but what researchers have found is that for the women who have dyed their hair more than 12 times, the risk is highest. And those who colored their locks before 1980 have the greatest risk. Since 1980, chemicals thought to be cancer-causing were eliminated from dyes -- although it is still not definite whether or not current hair dyes are risk-free. It is definite, say researchers, that further study of this topic is important. In the meantime, I think I will let my artificial reddish chestnut hues fade away while I enjoy the plain brown hair that covers my once-bald scalp.

A few years ago -- I can't remember exactly when -- I cut bunches of red wavy locks from my friend's head. I tied Amber's thick hair into one big ponytail, and I cut away. It was an extreme haircut for sure. Amber's long hairstyle was transformed into a shoulder-length bob, and for good reason.

Amber sent her 10-inch ponytail to Locks of Love, a non-profit organization that creates human hair wigs and hairpieces from donated hair and gives them to children under the age of 18 who have lost their hair due a medical condition. This was the first time I'd heard of Locks of Love, and I've since met many others who have purposely grown their hair in order to donate it. I have a neighbor who has done it three or four times now. I know two teenage brothers who have cut their long, dark hair for this great cause. And I've known toddlers whose parents have waited for that first haircut until 10 inches could be cut.

Ten inches is the magic number. Once tied into a ponytail, there must be 10 inches of hair hanging beneath the rubber band. The ponytail is cut off and what remains can be cut into a new style. Locks of Love provides the procedures for mailing the hair, and the details can be found on the Locks of Love website.

I was bald this time last year -- after receiving four rounds of toxic chemotherapy for breast cancer -- and I know how devastating hair loss can be. It affected my self-esteem, and I can only imagine how it affects children whose self-esteem is just forming.

You might consider donating your hair so that a child's confidence can be restored during a time that is so difficult and challenging. I will consider it too -- but I must say that for now, I am enjoying watching my new short, brown, curly hair grow and grow and grow.