She got unsolicited comments on her hair every day. In addition to the sideways glances of adults or the open mouthed faces of children, she was told that it aged her. That it looked dirty. That she looked ridiculous.
If only they knew.
If only they knew how it had felt to watch strands disappear down the drain until so much of it fell out that she gathered golfball sized clumps in her hand. If only they knew how it had felt to eventually shave it all off.
If only they knew why she was so proud of it now.
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