GIRL TALK : Hair today and hair tomorrow

It doesn't matter what our IQ is, each of us excels at something (at least that is what our mothers are trained to tell us).
For those battling the heat in India at the moment, it's sport. For others, it's maths and science while some are better at English and history.
My boyfriend is brilliant at remembering detailed information that has no bearing on the real world except on quiz nights, when he becomes the general knowledge equivalent of a rock star.
It's widely accepted that writing and photography are my God-given gifts, but only those close to me are aware of another prominent pair: vanity and impatience.
The two traits sit uncomfortably together, resulting in a mixed personal style that sees me perfectly preened with immaculate make-up and heels one morning then looking like I've been dragged backwards through a hedge on another when my need for speed has made me too impatient to care what I look like.
The biggest battle between the two forces has undoubtedly been the length of my hair. For most of my life, I have been propelled by a desire to have long, long locks. Until recently, my impatience has won out and resulted in premature prunes. Now, finally, my hair is long and, it is without a doubt, my biggest vanity. Such is the attachment that I was left in a rare state of speechlessness when my friend, Michelle, told me she was shaving hers off.
Yes, it was for child cancer and, yes, it was part of a wider fundraising initiative by police called "Bald on the Beat" but this was her HAIR. All the stuff on her HEAD. The stuff that made her look BEAUTIFUL. My brain simply could not compute.
She was either completely devoid of vanity or else she was unbelievably nice. The sort of nice that makes people like me look nasty.
Not only do she and her fundraising police mates spend their entire working life dealing with the scabs of society so that I don't have to but, in their spare time, they make themselves look really ugly in a valiant bid to help a bunch of kids they don't know.
It was a terrific fundraising technique. Such was the guilt at knowing I would never be nice enough to do this myself that I immediately felt compelled to go online and donate $50. I tried to ignore the nasty little devil on my shoulder (the one without the luscious long hair tumbling over it), which informed me that it was significantly less than $50 since it was a tax-deductible donation.
As the razors are sharpened and the October 27 deadline draws nearer, I notice Michelle stroking her hair a little more than is normal and a bittersweet sadness has settled in her eyes. Like a prisoner counts down his remaining days on death row, she is mentally letting go of her lovely hair and pounding the pavements in a bid to raise enough money to feel that the pain of looking like a bald eagle is worth it.
Yes, I'm too vain to ever consider joining her. But my admiration at her lack of vanity compels me to at least be prepared to abuse my position of power in the media (relax, there are no racial slurs pending) and, at the very least, give her a blatant plug.
If you're like me and can't give your hair to a good cause, then at least give your cold hard cash ...
www.fundraiseonline.co.nz/michellefey