Reader Submission
One woman wrote to us about a moment she didn’t expect to matter.
It wasn’t a celebration or a big change—just a haircut, at the end of a long season.
She asked if we would share it, in case it helped someone else feel less alone.
I didn’t go to the salon to feel beautiful.
I went because my hair had finally grown enough to need a cut.
After chemotherapy, that felt unreal.
For a long time, I didn’t have hair to worry about. I had scarves. Hats. Explanations I didn’t want to give.
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