The worst part

I am bald now. Totally bald. Well, I have some fuzz, like a downy duck, as my mother said. But for all intents and purposes – bald.

But I’m getting used to that. It’s not the worst part.

The worst part is my three-year-old asking me on a daily basis, “Mommy, are you sick today?” And me, without a good answer.

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